


All That Is and Isn't True

by Mypissedoffsandwich, romanticalgirl



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Dirty Talk, M/M, Mirror Sex, Mistaken Identity, Mistaken Incest, Misunderstandings, No Incest, Shrunkyclunks, Steve Rogers Has A Filthy Mouth, chef bucky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-12
Updated: 2018-02-12
Packaged: 2019-03-17 04:15:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 23,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13651239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mypissedoffsandwich/pseuds/Mypissedoffsandwich, https://archiveofourown.org/users/romanticalgirl/pseuds/romanticalgirl
Summary: Steve meets and gets to know one of the chefs at Stark Tower. They're pretty sure they're perfect for each other, until a secret from the past comes to light. They have to figure out what's true, what isn't, and what matters to each of them.It's not easy, but then, it wouldn't be love if it was.





	All That Is and Isn't True

**Author's Note:**

> Special thanks to mypissedoffsandwich for working with me on this and giving me such amazing art. It was really great working with you!

There’s a coffee shop on the main floor of Avengers Tower. It’s completely overpriced and the names are ridiculously long or full of puns. There’s a drink named after each of them -- the Captain Americano comes with a coffee sleeve that has a ring of shields on it -- and he knows it’s mostly for the tourists, but he today Tony and Rhodey are in front of the elevator, and he doesn’t always want to have to ride up with them and have a _discussion_ that involves a lot of stern faces on Rhodey’s part and a lot of emphatic hand gestures on Tony’s. Steve’s pretty sure that scenario can only end in disaster.

Which is why he ducks into the coffee shop even though it always ends up a madhouse when the tourists realize who he is. He glances around and, thankfully, it’s early enough that the only people who are in line are people who work at the Tower, and they tend to ignore all of the Avengers. Steve knows that Tony’s workforce can get top of the line coffee pretty much anywhere else in the Tower, so he can only imagine they need something to get them up the next couple of floors. 

“You should either order something or sit down if you don’t want to draw attention to yourself.”

Steve looks over at a table in the back corner where the voice came from. The guy sitting there has dark hair that hangs in his face, framing it as it falls toward his shoulders. Steve can’t quite see his eyes, but his smile is dangerous in the kind of ways that make Steve run headfirst without looking. “I usually end up doing that no matter what I do.”

“Well, you also usually wear a red, white, and blue suit and carry a target around. Not exactly inconspicuous.” He gestures toward the seat across from him. “Seriously, if you’re trying to avoid Stark or something, you really should sit down or do that thing you do with the shield and make yourself about a quarter of your size.”

Steve sinks down into the offered chair and smiles, glancing over his shoulder. “Nothing against Tony. He’s just a lot first thing in the morning. Or any time of day really.” He looks back at the man and holds out his hand. “Steve Rogers.”

“James Barnes.” He grasps Steve’s hand with his own and shakes. Steve can’t help but look down at his fingers. They’re long and trim and clean. He lets go and leans back, still smiling at Steve. It’s not a full smile, just the upturned corner of one side of his mouth, but his eyes shine with it. “So, Steve, is it? What do you do?”

Steve blinks and then laughs. “I play frisbee professionally.”

“NIce. How’s that gig pay?”

“Better than you’d think. You?”

“Sous chef.”

“Okay, I know who Gordon Ramsay is, and Tony insists I watch the guy who seems to travel the world to eat animal scrotums, but I’ve got no idea what a sous chef does.”

“I boss all of the kitchen around while the head chef bosses me around. Basically I’m in charge of the kitchen and he’s in charge of the _cuisine_.” James makes a hand gesture that gives the word a ridiculous lightness. 

“Do you work somewhere near here? Would I have eaten any of your… cuisine?”

James leans back in his chair and smiles for real, and Steve feels his stomach flip. “How’d you enjoy your chicken Kiev last night, Captain?”

Steve’s eyebrows shoot up. “Dry. Terribly dry. And the rice pilaf was sticky. Vegetables were overcooked. Really a horrible meal. Of course, the food here is always awful.”

“I know, right? I wouldn’t eat here if you paid me.” He lifts his coffee cup and takes another sip. The hammers on the sleeve show that, coffee-wise, James is much more of a Thor fan. “I should get to work. Stark disappeared into the elevator a few minutes ago. But I offer no promises as to your safety if you go beyond the lobby.”

“Good thing we frisbee-tossers have to be brave.” He stands up as James does, holding out his hand again. “It was nice to meet you.”

“You too, Captain.” He shakes Steve’s hand then gives him a two-fingered salute and a smile, heading out of the coffee shop. Steve watches him, absolutely not staring. 

Much.

**

Steve should have left hours ago, but he’s working through reports from the last few missions. They’d been running them in groups of twos and threes, and they have good intel, but Steve’s job is to make it make sense, to fit the puzzle together so he can figure out a plan of attack.

He looks up at the knock on the conference room door, a frown furrowing his forehead. “Come in?”

“Hi.” James pokes his head in. He’s wearing a white chef’s jacket and a net holding his hair back. Steve unconsciously runs his hand through his hair, and it makes James flush as he reaches up and tugs the net off. His hair is mostly damp with sweat and flat against his head, but there are a few tufts that stand up. Steve’s pretty sure that after clenching his head in frustration, his own hair looks much, much worse. “You didn’t have dinner with the rest of the Avengers that were here.”

“Paperwork. One of the main disadvantages to being in charge of the team. They get to play, I get to try and piece this together and make a cohesive strategy. It’s not as easy as they make it look in the movies.”

“I thought you might be hungry.”

Steve hasn’t thought about food since he’d eaten lunch. He glances down at his watch and winces. Ten hours ago. Reminded, his stomach starts growling. “Um. Maybe.”

“I was informed by the head chef that you are to be fed as if you haven’t eaten in a week. I was also told that you hate it when people do things for you.” He pushes the door open the rest of the way and wheels in a cart. He whips the white cloth off the top of it, revealing four loaves of different breads, condiments, sliced meats, cheeses, lettuce, tomatoes, pickles, and onions. There are also four bowls of different kinds of chips, four different flavors of soft drinks, and at least six different kinds of beer. “Viola.”

He reaches onto the second shelf of the cart and pulls out a plate, a napkin, and silverware. Steve shakes his head in wonder. “Wow. That’s...wow.”

“I thought maybe you’d settle for a compromise. I provide the food, you fix it.”

“Okay.” Steve frowns at the selection then looks at James. “You hungry?”

“The help doesn’t get hungry.” This time it’s James’s stomach that rumbles. Steve laughs and raises an eyebrow.

“Make yourself a sandwich. No matter what your chef might say, I don’t think even I can eat all of this by myself.”

James pulls a second plate from the cart and sets it on the table beside the other one. “You drive a tough bargain.”

“Not really. I mostly just keep banging my head against the wall until someone feels bad enough to agree with me just to make me stop.” Steve smiles and goes over, starting to make his sandwiches as James makes a couple of his own. Steve offers him a beer and James takes it, flipping the cap off with his thumb. “Neat trick.”

James lifts his left hand and waggles his fingers and, for the first time, Steve realizes they’re made of metal. “I’m the best party trick in town.”

“Prosthetic?”

“Yeah. A Stark original.”

“Can’t be.”

James frowns intently, eyes narrowing. “Why’s that?”

“It’s not a gaudy combination of cherry red and bright gold.”

James relaxes with a laugh and takes another beer off the cart and pops it open for Steve. “You have no idea what I had to agree to to get him to leave it plain silver.”

“I work with him on a regular basis. I bet I can imagine some of it.” Steve picks up a pickle spear and takes a bite out of it with a loud crunch. “Good pickle.”

James’s mouth is curved in a smirk and his eyebrow arches. Steve realizes that he might have just walked into an innuendo. He seems to do that a lot, which means he’s blushing. “We pickle them here in-house.”

Steve licks his lips and sets the pickle back on his plate and starts in on his first sandwich. James asks him questions about what he likes to do for fun, which makes Steve blush again. James obviously gets the wrong idea because his eyebrows shoot up and he chokes a little on his beer.

“No! No. Not that. I mean, I… Um.” He exhales and shakes his head. “Sorry. I just know what comes next. People can’t believe what I have and haven’t done, and then they tell me what I have to do, and then there’s just one other person I’ve let down, because there’s no way I can do it all. I mean, everyone else has had seventy years to get through this stuff. They didn’t have to do it all at once so they didn’t feel like some sort of alien.”

“It seems like your friends have a lot of opinions.”

“ _Everyone_ has a lot of opinions. Admit it, you want to know if I’ve watched your favorite movie, don’t you?”

James shrugs, but his smile gives him away.

“Go on. Ask.”

“I don’t have a favorite movie. I don't believe you _can_ have a favorite. Nothing hits every single button, you know? But I have a few. I can tell you this though -- I’ve grown up in this culture without any breaks for hanging out in frozen suspension, and I haven’t seen all the movies or heard all the music or tried every food or every sexual position.” He laughs as Steve colors again. “Sorry. That was a cheap shot.”

“No. You’re right. You get it. Nobody does it all, you know? But I’m supposed to be all things to all people, I guess, and they all want Captain America to like what they like. Like my opinion is worth something, like it’s validation.”

“You can’t be that clueless.”

Steve laughs. “Depends on who you ask. According to Tony there is no end to my cluelessness.”

James picks up his beer by the bottleneck and gestures toward Steve with it. “People look up to you. They think you’re an ideal. They want to be like you. Aspire to be like you. You’re the ultimate good guy.”

Steve groans and puts his head on the table. “You ever gone out on a date with someone?”

“Um, yes.”

“Right.” Steve lifts his head. “Nothing comes from being the good guy. The nice guy. I’m the guy that stays at the table and watches everyone’s stuff while they all go off and dance. Literally. I’ve been that guy. Back in the thirties. And even my date went out and danced while I watched coats and purses. The good guy isn’t who _anyone_ wants to be.”

“Nah. I think that it’s just extra hard to be that guy, which is why so few people manage it.” James takes a drink. “So, how do you see yourself?”

“I’m an asshole.” Steve grins. “Stubborn and obnoxious and demanding. I’m always right. I’m sure of it. Just ask me. I don’t back down. I listen, but people don’t think I do because I usually don’t do what they say.” 

“Don’t write your own dating profile.”

This time Steve laughs and takes a drink of his own beer. “I don’t have one of those. It’s improper for Captain America to support any particular dating profile or app, and besides the people who proposition me want… Things.”

“Oh, this I have to hear.” He props his chin on his hand and widens his eyes. “Tell me.”

Steve feels his blush spread down his throat to the collar of his shirt. “Well, um. You don’t want to hear this.”

“You are so incorrect in that assumption.” James leans back, slouched in his chair, his legs long and spread slightly as he looks at Steve. His gaze feels hot on Steve’s skin. “C’mon. I brought you sandwiches.”

Steve shakes his head and knows the blush has gone down onto his chest. His skin feels like it’s burning, like his blood is on fire. “Well, I mean, they think I’m a good guy, right?” He shrugs, bites his lower lip, and very carefully doesn’t look at James. “So they either want me to punish them until they’re good or they want to corrupt me.”

“Punishment, huh?”

Clearing his throat, Steve drops his eyes, but they land on the long stretch of James’s legs, the way his black slacks cling to his thighs. “I can’t though. Because I could hurt them. I mean, I’m good with my strength. I know how to hold back. But I’ve never… Um, done anything like that. And I don’t know, if I got into it, if I’d lose control.” He’s not sure James can understand a word he’s saying since he’s outright mumbling. 

“Do you think you’d get into it?”

Steve’s eyes snap up to James’s and he can’t look away. “I… I don’t know. I’ve never…” 

James licks his lips and leans forward, elbows on his knees. “And how would someone corrupt you? I bet it’d take a long time to break you down.” Steve can’t swallow around the lump in his throat. James is looking at him like he’d rather dine on him than the rest of his sandwich. “You’ve been so good for so long.” 

Steve’s mouth opens, and he fully intends to say something, but nothing will come out. James shifts forward so he’s perched on the edge of his seat, and Steve can’t seem to help leaning in toward him. He doesn’t know what he’s going to do, even though he knows what he _wants_ to do. He licks his lips, not sure if it’s instinct or if he’s just copying James. James watches, all predator.

“Excuse me, Captain.”

Steve jerks away from James, and he’s breathing way too hard. “Yeah. Yes, JARVIS?”

“Sir is looking for you. He says he just received some information from Agent Barton that you may find interesting.”

“Right. Okay. Thanks. Thanks, JARVIS.”

“Of course, Captain. Mr. Barnes.”

Steve slumps back in his chair as James gets up and starts gathering the dishes. He covers the food and walks over to Steve. He puts one hand on the back of Steve’s chair and looks down at him. “Goodnight, Captain.”

He’s gone before Steve can say a word.

**

No matter what people believe, Steve is not an icon. He’s not Captain America. Not really. It’s a suit he wears and a mask he puts on. What he is is a red-blooded man in his late twenties who hasn’t had sex since the forties, hasn’t had much time to think about sex since he’s been awake, and who is hornier than fuck.

He only hears about half of what Tony’s saying and he knows he’ll have to go over it all again in the morning, but he manages to get out of the Tower fairly quickly. The ride home on the bike doesn’t help matters, the vibrations thrumming through his thighs. Steve has to take one hand off the handlebars and reach down, pressing on his cock to get it to calm down. It doesn’t really work, straining against the pressure. 

He parks the bike and makes his way up the stairs to his apartment, glad it’s late enough that no one’s likely to be around to stop him to chat. His hands are shaking slightly as he unlocks the door, and he’s already undressing as he throws the bolt to lock it behind him. He falls down on his bed, spreading his legs wide. His back is propped on his pillows and he stares down at his cock. 

It’s thick and hard and leaking against his stomach as he remembers the way James’s words washed over him, melting like chocolate, sunlight seeping into his skin. Steve licks his lips, biting the lower one as he wraps one hand around the base of his dick and curves the other one above it. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath before opening them and watching as he starts to stroke.

He’s done this. He’s done this a _lot_. As a teenager, as a young man, as a displaced person who’s both young and old. He knows the feel of his cock, the weight and girth. He knows how to drive himself over the edge. But now he thinks about corruption. Thinks about what kinds of things would turn him inside out, would make him blush all over, would make him desperate and begging to be bad. Maybe better still, begging to be good.

Steve slides his fingers over the slit and slicks the pre-come over the head. He keeps licking his upper lip, wondering what it would feel like to run his tongue over the slit, to taste another man’s come on his tongue. 

James’s.

“Oh, fuck.” Steve’s hips arch off the bed, but he squeezes the base, not wanting to come yet. He backs off his stroking, instead running his fingers over his lower stomach, his thighs, brushing them over his pubic hair and balls, letting his fingertips ghost over his hole. He runs the fingers of both hands up his cock from base to tip, over and over and never enough. He’s breathing hard and he bites his lower lip to hold back a moan as he grabs his dick again and starts stroking.

He teases himself again and again, bringing himself to the edge at least five times before he can’t handle it anymore, until every limb is trembling, every muscle taut. He’s begging, gasping, wanting to come, wanting to be good. He hears James’s voice in his ear, teasing and taunting and Steve slips over, not able to open his eyes after he’s done, falling asleep in a sweat-soaked, slick mess.

**

Steve doesn’t see James again for nearly two weeks. It’s a combination of relief and agony, because Steve knows that the minute he does see him, he’s going to turn every shade of red imaginable because he’s spent every night exhausting himself with thoughts of James. Of what Steve wants to do. Of what he wants James to do.

He also knows that the minute he sees him, he’ll turn into the same ridiculous, bumbly Steve Rogers he was back in the thirties. The good guy. The one who goes home alone.

Tony’s throwing a charity luncheon and, being the only other Avenger around, Steve gets invited to come. Which isn’t exactly an invitation so much as a very nice smile from Pepper that’s about ninety percent unvocalized threat. Pepper is scary.

Fortunately all he has to do is stand around and look pretty, smile for cameras, and pretend he’s having a good time. 

He’s never been a very good actor.

“You look like you want to hide under the table.”

Steve gasps softly and jerks around, and James is standing there in the doorway. “Hi.” He can feel the blush forming. “I haven’t seen you.”

“We’ve been busy catering a few things for Ms. Potts. She’s really the boss, so what she says goes.”

“Oh, trust me. I know that. She’s the reason I’m still here and not in a conference room upstairs hiding.” He shakes his head. “I thought about ducking under the table, but I’m pretty sure she’d find me.”

James smiles and leans against the door jamb. “You look nice in a suit. I mean, don’t get me wrong. You look great in tights and Kevlar. Not too shabby in jeans and a leather jacket, but I have to admit that I like the tailored look.”

“Natasha picked it out because she says I have no taste and, apparently, you’re not supposed to buy a suit at Target. But don’t tell anyone I shop at Target, because that might come across as an endorsement.”

“Do you really buy your suits at Target?”

“No.” Steve pretends to look scandalized. “I buy them off the internet. The sizing is unique.”

“Is that why half the shirts you wear fit you like a second skin? Not that I’ve ever met anyone who’s complained about your wardrobe choices.”

“Natasha and Tony complain a lot.” He lets his gaze wander over James. “You’re out of your lab coat and hair net.”

“Done for the day. Mr. Stark and Ms. Potts are going out to an event this evening, and all the food for today is prepared. Besides, it’s all winding down. Now’s the schmoozing since everyone’s as fat and happy as their wallets.”

“There’s still dessert.”

“No one needs my help with dessert. In fact, when it comes to desserts, we are all heathens who worship at the feet of the pastry chef.”

“That sounds frightening.”

James leans in. “You have no idea.” He grins and he’s close enough that Steve can feel his breath stirring the short hairs of his neck. “We cower in fear.”

“So you’re free tonight?”

“Why?” James suddenly looks slightly nervous and he pulls back. “You propositioning me?”

Steve stares at him, wide-eyed, and his heart is pounding in his chest. “Yeah. Yeah, I think I am.”

“You think, huh?” James laughs softly and it goes straight to Steve’s groin. If the way James’s eyes drop is any indication, James notices it. He steps back into the hallway. “I’ll tell you what, Captain. You let me know when you know.”

**

The luncheon finally ends after too many handshakes and Steve committed to at least five dinners for charity. He doesn’t mind charities. Charities are good things. He hates the dry chicken or undercooked steak that, no matter how fancy the party, seems to be the standard for those kinds of dinners. He also hates schmoozing and he’s absolutely no good at it. But he brings in money, so he’ll go and smile for the cameras.

“Ugh.” He slumps down at a table as soon as the last people leave. Pepper gives him an indulgent look and comes over, kissing the top of his head.

“You were a very brave boy, Steve. I’ll get you a lollipop.” He wants to be a smartass right back, but it’s Pepper, so Steve doesn’t say anything. “Tony and I have to go, but take as long as you need. Just don’t help clean up. The staff always feels weird when you do that.”

“Okay. Thanks Pepper.”

She gives him a smile that is warm and genuine and mostly hides the power she wears like a second skin. No wonder Tony’s in love. Steve puts his elbows on the table and puts his head in his hands, fingers lost in his blond hair. 

“So.” James’s voice is as warm as the hand he runs across Steve’s shoulders before he sits down in the chair next to him. “You look miserable.”

“Still look miserable, you mean.”

“The hard part’s over.”

Steve raises his head and looks at James. “I thought you’d gone.”

“I was propositioned by Captain America. I wasn’t going anywhere.”

“No.” Steve shakes his head and doesn’t quite manage to suppress his sigh. “You were propositioned by Steve Rogers. Pretty sure Captain America is a eunuch.”

“Ouch. Poor guy.” James props his own elbow on the table, leaning in close to Steve. “Is that who I’ve been talking to all this time? Steve Rogers?”

“Frisbee player extraordinaire.”

“I like him.” James shifts closer still, perched on the edge of his chair so he’s just inches away. “He sort of sucks at pick-up lines, or at least in having any conviction in them.”

“He’s incredibly hopeless.”

“No. Not hopeless.” James’s eyes are dark and his smile is warm enough to send a shaft of heat through Steve. “So I understand Steve has always been a bit of a wallflower. How much of one?”

“I…”

“Because if I’m taking him home, I want to know if this is his premiere engagement or if I’m at least the second act.”

“The… Oh. _Oh_.” Steve blushes. “I’ve… With a woman. Um. Twice and with… Uh… A guy. It’s...um. It’s been a really long time. Well, years. For me it was about ten years ago, I guess? During the war, so it wasn’t exactly…” His whole body feels like it’s on fire. “Are you?”

“Am I what?” James’s free hand settles on the middle of Steve’s thigh. “Taking you home?”

Steve’s lips part and he licks them, nodding slightly. “Yeah.”

“What do you think?”

“I think… Um. I think yeah?”

“Come on, Steve. Let’s see if you’re good at handling something other than a frisbee.”

**

They’re barely inside James’s apartment before he has Steve pressed against the door. His metal hand is tight on Steve’s shoulder, and the pressure is enough to hold him still. At the easy show of strength, Steve trembles and wraps a hand around the nape of James’s neck and pulls him in.

Other than the kiss he’d shared with Natasha while they were working on bringing Hydra down, it’s been a while since Steve’s been this close to anyone, and he’s forgotten the pure pleasure of kissing. Forgotten the taste of someone else’s tongue sliding in and out between his lips, teasing over his teeth and the roof of his mouth. Forgotten the hard pressure, the feel of his lips against his teeth. 

James bites Steve’s lower lip hard, and there’s the faint taste of copper on Steve’s tongue before the wound heals itself. “Oh, fuck. That’s hot. I can do so _much_ to you with that.”

Steve groans and digs his fingers in, thumb and fingertips pressing hard against the muscle. James whines and Steve loosens his grip. 

“Don’t you fucking dare.” James reaches back and squeezes Steve’s hand until his grip tightens again. Steve shudders and bites James’s lips, his tongue pressing between them. It’s dirty and filthy and hot, slick and messy. James slides his hand into Steve’s hair and fists it, tilting Steve’s head and moving to his throat, biting and sucking his way down to the collar of his suit jacket.

Steve lets James go and struggles to get out of it, pushing against James’s prosthetic and getting just enough leeway to pull the jacket off his shoulders and let it drop to the ground. James tugs at Steve’s tie before the jacket’s even halfway down his arms. He pulls it loose, then starts unbuttoning Steve’s shirt, mouth still moving as it finds new skin.

Shuddering, Steve’s hips roll forward and he wraps a leg around the back of both of James’s. He exerts pressure and James moves a step closer and Steve grinds against him. James lowers his metal arm, resting his fist against Steve’s hip so he can’t make contact. Steve huffs in frustration and James laughs against Steve’s collarbone.

He tugs Steve’s tie loose from the collar then gets Steve’s shirt undone and pulled free of his slacks. He pushes it down his arms so it falls down to join the jacket before grabbing Steve by the tie. “I’m not fucking you against the door. Not this time.” James starts walking backward, using the tie to lead Steve. 

Steve goes willingly, not sure if he’s feeling like a pet or a lamb to slaughter. When they get to the bedroom, James stops and glances down at Steve’s bare chest, the light brown trail of hair leading from his navel, under his slacks. He shifts the tie from his flesh hand to the metal one and wraps it around his palm. It tightens and shortens all at once. Steve can’t help but look directly into his eyes.

“You gonna take your pants off, Steve, or am I?”

Steve licks his lips and swallows. He wants to look away as he flushes, but he doesn’t let himself move. “What do you want?”

“I want you to walk over to that full-length mirror over there and get naked for me, except for this very expensive tie. And then I want you to hold onto the sides of the mirror. I want you to hold on until you’re right on the edge of breaking it, and I want to fuck you while you do it.”

Steve’s mouth opens to say something, but nothing comes out. Bucky’s smile is sly and promising.

“I want to watch you while I fuck you. I want to watch you watch yourself getting fucked. I want to see your body hot and damp with sweat. I want to see your cock hard and leaking for me. That’s what I want.”

Steve doesn’t even bother trying to say something when James is done, he just undoes his belt and his slacks, not caring if he’s ruining them when he uses them for friction to work off his shoes. He has to duck down to pull off his socks, and the whole while James stands there and watches him, fist tight around the tie, letting it pull against Steve’s neck.

When Steve’s done, James uses the tie to pull him in and kisses Steve again, deep and hard. Steve’s hips arch up without thought and James laughs and shoves him away. “Go.”

He holds onto the tie until Steve turns, letting it fall along the curve of Steve’s spine. Steve can see James watching him in the mirror and swallows hard. He’s flushed from the tips of his ears to his cock, and his throat’s tight. He feels aroused and exposed all at once. 

James walks toward him, tugging his shirt over his head and letting it fall. Steve watches his reflection, sees the angry, furled scarring at James’s shoulder, holding his gaze there for a moment until he knows James sees him looking, not looking away. Then his gaze travels down the dark hair on James’s chest. It softens the hard line of his body, but it doesn’t hide the fact that James is well-built. It tapers off into a vee below his navel, more of it exposed as James undoes his belt and then his fly.

He stops walking and kicks his shoes off, his black slacks and black boxer briefs sliding down over his muscled thighs. He takes them off as well as his socks and crosses the last bit of distance between him and Steve. Steve knows he’s wide-eyed, knows his pupils are dilated with want as he watches James come up behind him and stop, stand there staring at Steve.

He grabs the tie and gives it a little tug so the skin of Steve’s throat blanches slightly, then he walks to the side of the bed and opens the drawer. He tosses the lube and condoms to Steve and he catches them without thought. “One thing.”

Steve swallows and nods. “Yeah?”

“Call me Bucky. You call me James while we’re having sex, I’m gonna think you’re saying someone else’s name.”

“Bucky.” Steve’s voice sounds too deep to be his own, and Bucky shivers. He comes up behind Steve and puts his hand on Steve’s hips, curving around them before sliding up his torso, feeling the breadth of his ribcage. 

“God, and I thought you looked good with your clothes on.” His eyes are raking Steve up and down in the mirror, and Steve’s cock responds, jerking slightly. His hands move up to Steve’s shoulders, palms against his back. “Not sure I know where to start.”

“A-anywhere.” Steve laughs breathily. “Everywhere.”

Bucky steps closer and moves his hands down again, around Steve’s waist and over his abdomen, scraping his fingernails through the thin triangle of hair, up along his stomach to his chest. One hand slides higher and he traces the darker skin of Steve’s areola before rubbing the pad of his finger over the nipple.

Steve makes a low noise and his head falls back to Bucky’s shoulder. Bucky tsks at him. “Supposed to be watching me take you apart, remember?”

Steve nods and lifts his head, meeting Bucky’s eyes in the mirror again. Bucky steps closer and Steve can feel the length of his cock pressed to the cleft of his ass and he shudders hard. It’s been so long he’s forgotten the feel of another man against him. Bucky’s hands start roaming, his eyes following their path. Steve blushes deeper, lightheaded with it.

Bucky bites at the base of Steve’s neck and worries the skin, flicking his eyes up to Steve’s at the soft sound that falls past his lips. Steve’s still watching, though it’s more through the fall of his lashes than anything else. Bucky watches Steve’s face as his hands slide back to his chest, catching his nipples between his fingers and pinching lightly. 

Steve makes another sound, a low whimper that goes soundless when Bucky squeezes even harder. Steve goes up on his toes, back arching, his eyes falling closed no matter how hard he tries to keep them open. Bucky laughs huskily against the damp skin of Steve’s neck. “C’mon now, Steve. I’ve barely gotten started.”

“B-b-been a while.”

“Nobody’s touched you like this?” He rakes his nails down Steve’s sternum and abdomen. “Haven’t touched yourself?”

“‘S...it’s dif…” He stops and forces himself to take a deep breath. “Different.”

“Never know what I’m gonna do next, is that it?” He presses one hand back against Steve’s sternum so his back is firmly against Bucky’s chest. “Watch me.”

It takes Steve a moment to focus and meet Bucky’s eyes. When he does, Bucky inclines his head and Steve watches as Bucky’s other hand -- his metal hand -- wraps around Steve’s cock. “Ohfuck.” It all runs together, one word, no breath. Steve’s body quivers and his knees feel weak as the smooth metal slides over his skin, working from the base to the head. 

Bucky slides his thumb over the leaking tip. “Jesus Christ. You’re so fucking wet.” He bites Steve’s earlobe. “Come just sliding down your cock. Practically coming for me just from this.”

“Y-yes. Fuck.” He thrusts into Bucky’s fist, the metal slick in a way that’s completely foreign. He’s felt the power behind Bucky’s arm, and the dissonance from the delicate touch of his fingers makes Steve’s cock pulse, more come spilling from the slit. 

“Oh no.” Bucky eases his hand free and Steve’s cock is a slick mess, painting a swath of white across his stomach when he’s released. “Not that quick. Not that easy.” His wet hand swipes against Steve’s thigh as he leans down for the lube. 

“Se-serum enhanced my recovery period.”

Bucky meets Steve’s eyes again. “You come when I say you can come.”

“O-oh.” 

“Hands on the mirror frame. And remember. Don’t break it.” He uncaps the lube so Steve can see then he smears a thick mess of it onto his flesh fingers. His metal hand curves over Steve’s shoulder again and he smiles at Steve in the mirror’s reflection. His fingers slip between the globes of Steve’s ass, rubbing them around his hole, over it, getting him slick before he presses the pad of one finger against the muscle.

Bucky rubs until Steve’s hole is slippery, using just the tip of his finger to push it along the rim. Steve widens his stance, giving him more room to work and Bucky hums appreciatively. He pulls his hand back and coats his fingers with more lube. He presses one finger to Steve’s entrance and Steve tightens his grip on the mirror frame.

“You’re going to be so goddamn tight, aren’t you, Steve?” Steve can’t answer, all the breath gone out of him as Bucky pushes his finger in. He goes slow in shallow thrusts until he’s up to his first knuckle. Steve’s chest is tight, his lungs feel like there’s too much air and not enough, like he’s holding his breath. “Oh, fuck yes.”

Steve shakes, half from the reverent tone in Bucky’s voice and half from the fullness that stretches him. He knows it’s not much, just a small portion of Bucky’s finger, but it feels huge inside him. 

“Relax. Mm. C’mon, Steve, relax. I’ve got you.” He nuzzles the back of Steve’s neck and keeps moving his finger, slowly working his way deeper, turning and curving the digit until Steve feels the knuckles of Bucky’s hand against his perineum. “There you go. Right there. Mm. Feel good?”

Bucky’s voice pressed against the top of his spine sends a shudder through Steve as he nods. He stares at himself in the mirror, the parts of Bucky that he can see. His own skin shimmers with sweat, his nipples hard and tight, his cock stiff and leaking obscenely. 

Bucky doesn’t touch his cock, just lets his eyes flick down to it as he runs his fingers so close, but never close enough. Steve’s breathing hard like he hasn’t done since he got the serum, and his breath hitches like asthma when Bucky’s finger slides back and then he two push in.The muscles of Steve’s arms bunch and his hands whiten where he’s gripping the mirror frame. Bucky turns his head and watches the mirror as he brings a hand up and tweaks Steve’s nipple.

“Oh _fuck_.” The wood creaks dangerously, and Bucky watches Steve struggling to get himself under control. Bucky scratches the nipple this time and from the sound he makes, Steve knows that if Bucky doesn’t stop, the mirror is going to be a lost cause. Steve is gasping as Bucky keeps up the slow torture, working the flicks and pinches of his fingers in time with the thrusts of his fingers.

“You coming, Steve? Or you just so turned on you can’t help yourself? Making a mess of yourself. Mess of my mirror and my floor. Gonna have to make you get down on your knees and lick it up.”

Steve shudders all over and the wood of the frame definitely cracks. Bucky doesn’t pause as he pushes a third finger in, fucking Steve in earnest now. Steve can picture it and suddenly wants it, needs it desperately. He moans when Bucky pinches his nipple hard. Steve’s thrusting into the open air and he wants Bucky’s whole body against him. 

“Like that, huh? Maybe I should put you on all fours so you can do that, huh, Steve? Maybe make you do that while I work four fingers in. Maybe fist that fantastic ass of yours.”

The frame snaps and the mirror shatters and Steve comes, cock jerking with his pulse as his come splashes on his stomach, on the floor. Steve’s balance is off from the loss of the mirror but Bucky slides his hand around Steve’s waist and manages to hold him upright.

“Fuck. Fuck.” Steve’s voice is thready, sounding like he’s swallowed gravel. “Your mirror. Fuck.”

“Fuck the mirror.” Bucky works his fingers free and puts his hand on Steve’s shoulder to push. “Get the fuck on your knees.”

Steve sinks down, not caring about the glass around him. Bucky is against him fast, the tip of his cock pushing against Steve’s hole, steady and unrelenting until he’s sheathed in his ass. Steve’s head drops as Bucky grabs his hips with both hands and holds him. Steve stares down at the broken glass on the floor, his eyes glazed.

“Jesus Christ.” Bucky fucks into him. Nothing has felt better than Bucky when he buries himself deep, his balls smacking loudly with every hard thrust. “Jesus Christ.” 

Steve keeps thrusting back, can’t stop chasing the feeling that’s flooding over him. He’s never been this turned on, never been this desperate. He’s already come, but he still feels like he’s still waiting on it. He realizes what he’s waiting on is Bucky, so he does what Bucky said, drops his head even more and flicks his tongue across a drop of come on the floor. And then Bucky’s coming inside him.

**

Bucky pulls out and turns Steve over. Bucky opens his mouth like he’s going to say something, but then he sees that Steve’s still hard, hard again, and instead wraps his mouth around Steve’s cock. It makes sense that, after his first orgasm, the second would take him a while, but by the time he arches off the floor and comes, Bucky’s mouth is wet and bruised, his chin covered in spit. Steve’s hands are clenched into fists at his sides, his heart pounding.

Bucky reaches down and gives Steve’s balls, wet from Bucky’s mouth, a squeeze. “Again.”

Steve nods, hand flailing to the side for a condom. This time Bucky straddles him and grabs the condom, working it on Steve’s dick, massaging it to full hardness, which takes barely any time at all. Bucky walks on his knees up Steve’s body and grabs his hand, squeezing lube onto it.

“Pretty sure the only thing that can stretch me enough for that cock is those fingers.”

Steve groans and moves his hand between Bucky’s legs immediately. Bucky feels relaxed, slightly loose from his earlier orgasm, but he still hisses and tightens his thighs against Steve’s ribs as Steve pushes his finger in. He goes slow, watching Bucky’s reactions.

“Fuck. Fuck yes.” Bucky licks his lips and it’s _filthy_. “Another. C’mon. _fuck me_. Another. C’mon. Want to come all over you like you came all over yourself. Want to wipe it off your fucking amazing abs and make you suck it off my fingers.”

If Bucky’s voice had gone straight to Steve’s dick before, Bucky’s voice after an agonizingly long blow job is like a jolt of electricity to every nerve ending Steve has. “Yeah.” Steve bites his lower lip hard and fumbles for the lube, managing to only make a little bit of a mess before he pushes two more fingers in.

“Oh, holy fuck, Steve. Jesus.” Bucky rises up, his thigh muscles going taut, and then he fucks down onto Steve’s fingers as Steve thrusts them up. Bucky presses his hands to Steve’s stomach, his thumbs rubbing against the still-tacky remains of Steve’s orgasm. “Fucking filthy, Steve. Anybody seen you this filthy? Sticky with come and aching to get your cock inside their ass? This the real you, Steve? Hmm? The one who wants to swallow my come down his throat?”

“Fuck.” Steve knows it can’t feel good for Bucky when he wrenches his fingers out, when he grabs Bucky and manhandles him, guiding him down onto his cock. But Bucky feels like fucking heaven around him, and Steve just holds him, keeps him still so he can fuck up into him, hips pistoning up until Bucky’s gasping, begging, filthy and desperate words dripping off his tongue, egging Steve on. 

Steve slides his hands up to Bucky’s shoulders from behind, holding hard as he shifts, bending his knees, so he has more leverage to hold Bucky against him, more power from his thighs behind every thrust. Bucky’s not managing words anymore, just breathless keens from high in his throat. Steve buries his head against Bucky’s neck and sucks against the sweaty skin like it’s life-sustaining, like it’s all he needs.

Bucky’s whole body tightens around him and then Steve feels the hot wash of come between them. He keeps clenching his ass and making his thighs work harder, drive him deeper. Bucky’s head has falling on Steve’s shoulder and he’s whimpering. 

“Want me to stop?” Steve chokes out.

Bucky shakes his head vehemently and Steve manages something of a laugh. Flowing easily, he rolls Bucky onto his back and braces himself over him. Bucky looks at him with lidded eyes, no color in the white save the wide black of his pupil. Bracing his hands on both sides of Bucky’s head, Steve looks at him just as intently as he had in the mirror and doesn’t hold back, just fucks deep into Bucky until his fingers dig into the pile of the carpet, pulling out several strands as his whole body goes stiff and he comes again.

**

Steve wakes up in the morning naked, on the floor, and with a Post-it note stuck to his chest. He grabs it as he sits up. “Food does not make itself” is scrawled across it and Steve smiles. He stretches, arching his back, and the heavy soreness hits him. He aches, and it’s the best feeling he’s had in a long time. He knows he should get up, but instead he lies back down on the carpet and runs his hand over his hard cock. 

He wishes Bucky would have woken him, wishes he could have taken him in his mouth and sucked him off until he was writhing under Steve. Biting his lower lip, Steve tightens his hand and strokes, jerking guiltily as his phone rings.

He looks around for his pants and grabs them, pulling the phone out of his pocket. “Rogers.”

“Everything okay?” He can see Natasha’s expression in his mind, concerned and serious.

“Yeah. Just… Yeah. Fine. What’s up?”

“You’re supposed to be at the Tower for this briefing and you’re not. Which is concerning because you’re always early.”

“I...uh… Um, got caught up in something. Sorry. I’ll be right there.”

“Bring doughnuts. Stark’s staff just gave us fruit and bagels.”

“You like fruit and bagels.” Steve starts getting dressed, flushing when he realizes he’s still wearing his tie. Fuck. 

“I like doughnuts better. Bring them.”

“All right. So I won’t be right there.”

“You’re excused. Besides, you’ll still be early.” She hangs up and Steve shoves the phone in his pocket. He needs a shower and a change of clothes, but he’s fairly certain if he takes the time to do that, he _will_ be late and then Natasha would dig and dig until she figured everything out. At least this way he can maybe pass it all off as a one-night stand. 

Which it might actually be.

He frowns and finds the rest of his clothes in the living room, getting his tie in place under the collar after buttoning up his shirt. He realizes how he must look, and tugs the tie off, rolls it up, and jams it into his jacket pocket, unbuttoning the first two buttons of his shirt.

He catches a cab to the Tower, doing his very best to _not_ look like Captain America. Most of the time people don’t recognize him in street clothes, and even though Steve’s known to take public transportation, no one actually believes it’s him they see. Of course, going to the Tower means the cabbie knows exactly who it is doing a walk of shame.

Not that he’s ashamed. 

When he gets to the conference room, Clint takes one look at him and holds up a hand for a high-five. “Captain America got some.”

He drops a box of pastries from the expensive coffee shop downstairs onto the table instead of responding. Natasha raises an eyebrow as she looks him over, a smirk curving her lip. Steve shakes his head. “I don’t want to hear it.”

“I didn’t plan on saying a word.”

Steve slumps down in a chair and pulls the briefing materials toward him. He rakes a hand through his hair and focuses as he opens the folder, ignoring the rest of the Avengers as they filter into the room.

Tony’s the last one which, given that he lives in the Tower, usually pisses Steve off but, since Tony actually _saw_ him yesterday in this outfit, he appreciates the distraction. Tony may be all over the place, but he has laser intensity whenever Steve doesn’t want it.

“Just tell me you didn’t go home with the lady who grabbed your ass during dessert.”

Steve swallows. “Let’s get down to business.”

“No. No. I need you to actually tell me that,” Tony sits opposite him. “Because otherwise I have to be completely and utterly horrified at your lack of taste. So please.”

“It wasn’t the lady who grabbed my ass,” Steve grits out. “Now. Business.”

**

The problem is that Steve has no idea what to do now. He can’t exactly go lurking around in the kitchens, and he can’t just show up unannounced at Bucky’s place, and he refuses to live in the Tower just so Bucky can find him. He’s in the training room working through the obstacle course, determined to get through without using the shield. It keeps his brain occupied with something other than memories of the other night, which is what he’s been thinking about pretty much non-stop since he left Bucky’s apartment.

“Direct hit, Captain Rogers.” JARVIS shuts down the simulation he’s running when Steve gets tagged. “Restart?”

Steve scrubs his face, using his fingers to wipe sweat out of his eyes. “How much farther this time?”

“You were three-quarters of the way through before you were distracted.” Steve tilts his head back and sighs. He rakes his fingers through his hair and slumps back against the wall. “A twelve percent increase in distance.”

“Fuck.”

“Sir sometimes likes ambient battle noise when he’s focused on other things.”

“Is there any time Tony isn’t focused on more than one thing at a time?” He can still feel the sweat on his face, pooling in the small of his back, along his sternum. Tugging his shirt off, he uses the wicking fabric to wipe it away. “Never mind. I know the answer. I’m going to call it for now, JARVIS. Thanks.”

“Of course, Captain.”

Steve pushes off the wall and heads to the locker room, if that’s the proper name for what actually exists in the place of showers with lukewarm water, no water pressure, and cracked tiled walls. Lounge? Luxury suite? Spa? Steve needs to stop trying to figure out anything that Tony does. 

He strips out of his workout gear, a modified version of the latest suit upgrade Tony’s made -- this one red, white, and blue sparkles, because Tony’s an ass -- and hangs it on the hook in his locker, which he calls a closet, much to Tony’s consternation. Tony offered a different facility for Wanda and Natasha, but they’d just ,em>looked at him.

The fact that Natasha had compared them to eunuchs to say it wasn’t necessary made Tony puff up like a angry cat. Clint and Sam had laughed until they realized _they’d_ been insulted too. They’d looked at Steve who, other than Thor and Bruce when he was hulked out -- Steve assumed -- was decidedly on the large side. They’d expected him to be offended, but he’d shrugged it off.

“I’m used to women ignoring me. Been happening my whole life.”

Tony’d built them their own facility out of spite, which Steve expected was Natasha’s plan all along, so Steve doesn’t have any reservations about stripping down. He would have anyway, though at least this way he doesn’t spend the entire time blushing.

He turns the water as hot as it will go to sluice the sweat off of him, then turns it down to actually clean himself up. He presses one hand to the wall and arches his back, tilting his head back as well.

“I’m not sure if I should ogle or applaud.”

Steve starts and ends up choking on the water he inhales. “Jesus Christ.”

Bucky’s grinning at him when he turns around. “So. This is where the magic happens, huh?”

“Showering is magic?”

“It is when you’re doing it. Or art. Fuck. I didn’t get a good enough look at you the other night. Jesus.”

“I thought this area was off-limits to staff.” Steve’s not complaining, he just doesn’t want Bucky to get in trouble. He also doesn’t want security guards rushing in while he’s naked.

“I told them you ordered something to eat.” He waves the serving dish he’s holding. He sets it down on the floor then straightens, looking at Steve with dark eyes. “So, are you hungry?”

“Fuck, yes.” 

Bucky strips off his clothes quickly, then moves into the shower with Steve, naked and slick with water in seconds. Steve wraps an arm tight around Bucky’s waist and pulls him in, capturing his mouth in a kiss. He’s not sure how long it goes on, not sure if it’s one kiss or a hundred. All he knows, all he can feel, is Bucky’s hands on him. They roam up and down Steve’s back, over his shoulders, down to his ass, along the back of his thighs. 

Steve’s hand slips lower over Bucky’s ass and pulls him in tighter so their cocks are pressed against each other. Bucky moans against his mouth and Steve kisses him again, deep and hard. When he pulls back, he moves immediately to Bucky’s jaw, to his neck. Bucky keeps moaning, the sounds choked off every time Steve’s lips and teeth move to another spot.

“I want to fuck you,” Steve murmurs into Bucky’s skin. “Want you bent in half, knees to your shoulders, barely able to breathe when I fuck into you. Want to take you the fuck apart.”

Bucky shudders and rolls his hips upward to find friction against Steve’s body. “Yes. Fuck yes, please.” Steve’s hand slides down and he rubs two fingers against Bucky’s hole. “Here. Now. Just… fuck, Steve.”

Steve keeps rubbing Bucky’s hole, pressing the pad of his fingers against the tight muscle. Bucky’s writhing against him, pushing forward so his cock is against Steve’s, back so his ass is against his fingers. “Don’t have anything.”

“Use fucking soap. I don’t fucking care. Get _inside_ me.”

Steve presses his fingers harder against Bucky, not penetrating, and reaches his other hand between them to grab Bucky’s dick. “Don’t want to hurt you.”

“I want your _cock_.”

Steve shuts him up with a kiss, his hand sliding up Bucky’s shaft. Bucky groans into Steve’s mouth and tries to push back harder. Steve pulls back and bites Bucky’s lip sharply. “Get you off and take you upstairs and lay you out on my bed. Work you over until you’re ready to go again. How many times do you think I can make you come, Buck?” Bucky is shuddering. He’s on the balls of his feet to get closer. “Two? Three? How many times are you gonna come for me?”

“I want… I w-want…” His hips jerk and the hot water is lost in the hot spill of Bucky’s orgasm. His body goes stiff and then seems to melt as his head falls onto Steve’s shoulder. Steve’s fingers are still against Bucky’s hole, and even post-orgasm his ass keeps clenching, not letting Steve pull away. 

Steve lets out a ragged sigh and Bucky lifts his head and looks up at him. He grabs the back of Steve’s head and pulls him down into a kiss, hot and carnal. Steve gets both hands on Bucky’s ass and squeezes. 

“Fuck. Fuck. Just.” Bucky pulls back and slides his hands down Steve’s sides and hips as he sinks to his knees, taking Steve in his mouth as he goes. Steve groans and his back arches, his hips canting upward as Bucky sucks him down. He knows he won’t last long, not with the tight heat of Bucky’s mouth, the pornographic stretch of his lips around Steve’s dick. His lashes are clumped against his cheeks with the water still spraying down on them, drops falling off his cheekbones as he hollows his cheeks, mouth constricting around Steve.

“Bucky. Fuck.” Steve tangles his fingers in Bucky’s hair, not pulling him off, but so desperate against the stimulation that he’s not sure how much longer he’ll last if Bucky doesn’t relent. Bucky pulls back and looks up at Steve. His lips are swollen and red and his mouth looks like it’s made for Steve’s cock. “Fuck my mouth. Fuck me.”

He takes Steve deep again and Steve tightens his grip in Bucky’s hair to hold him still as his hips thrust forward. Bucky’s mouth and tongue and lips are so tight against Steve’s skin, slippery slick around him as Steve fucks past his lips. Bucky hums and moans around him, and Steve’s other hand wraps around the shower head for support as the tip of his cock brushes the back of Bucky’s throat. 

He comes hard, body jerking, hand tight in Bucky’s hair and holding him against his body so Bucky can’t, won’t pull away. Not that Bucky shows any signs of it, his hands bruising Steve’s hips. Steve feels like every muscle contracts and they’re suddenly deluged with water as the shower head breaks off in Steve’s hand.

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” Steve doesn’t care about the water, doesn’t care about the fact that Tony’s going to give him so much shit. All he cares about is that Bucky’s not _stopping_ , he’s sucking Steve like it’s his job, like he can’t get enough. “Jesus, fuck. Christ, Buck… Oh… Oh, God.” Steve arches back and, without anything to hold on to, smacks his head against the wall of the shower.

Bucky looks up at him through his wet lashes and Steve’s body jerks one last time. Bucky pulls off and Steve sinks down to his knees, completely spent. Bucky reaches up and shuts off the water, but Steve’s body is too hot, too flushed to feel the chill. Bucky licks his lips and then leans in and kisses Steve. This time it’s barely a brush of his mouth against Steve’s, light and quick.

“Holy shit,” Steve gasps against Bucky’s mouth. He sprawls on the floor, legs spread then reaches for Bucky. “Just… Fuck, come here.” 

Bucky crawls up to him and Steve brings his legs together, letting Bucky settle on his lap. He rests his head on Steve’s shoulder, breath fanning against Steve’s damp, bare skin. “Come home with me tonight.”

“Come upstairs with me right now.”

Bucky laughs, the sound rough from Steve fucking his mouth. “Even better.”

**

Three months later and they spend half the time at Steve’s apartment and half the time at Bucky’s unless Steve’s on a mission and then Bucky’s in the apartment in the Tower, waiting for Steve to get home.

Steve is head-over-heels in love.

He has no idea if Bucky feels the same, since they don’t talk about anything resembling feelings unless it’s how they want to feel each other. Steve’s not good at expressing himself unless it’s some sort of rallying speech, and he’s not sure if Bucky’s there for the sex or for Steve himself. He can tell by the looks he gets from Natasha that she is close to cornering Bucky in some dark hallway and using torture to find out, but Steve’s pretty sure the looks he gives her keep that from happening.

Steve’s in love. And he’s used to not being loved in return. Peggy’s the only one who ever did.

“You know that’s a horrible attitude to have. You’re worth more than that.” Natasha’s glaring at him in a way that’s exclusive to her, and could probably be considered torture in and of itself. 

“The sex is amazing. We hang out. Even if he doesn’t feel the same. I’m okay if it’s friends with benefits. That’s what you kids call it these days, right?” He grins at her, but it doesn’t change her expression. “I’m happy. Isn’t that what’s important?”

“You’re not happy, Steve. You’re happier, but that’s not saying much.”

His jaw tightens and he shakes his head. “We’re done talking about this.”

“You deserve _better_.”

“How do you know that?” Steve stands up, and looks down at her. He knows she’s not intimidated by his height, but his tone is different than the one he usually uses with her, to anyone. “None of you know me. No one in this fucking century knows me. You know legends and propaganda and bullshit that Shield and Hydra came up with. You know Captain America. That’s all _any_ of you know. You know what’s in the fucking Smithsonian. Maybe, just _maybe_ , Steve Rogers is fine with settling because it’s more than he’s ever fucking _gotten_ in his life. Maybe this is all I get, did you ever fucking think about that?”

She steps back like she’s been slapped. “Is that true?You really think all we see is Captain America?”

Steve sighs and sits down. “You think he’s sleeping with Steve Rogers, Nat? Captain America’s not just what you guys see. It’s what he sees. And Captain America doesn’t get to fall in love, especially not with a man. So give me this, okay? Just...give me this.”

“You’re an idiot.” She grabs his chin and forces him to look at her. “You think I don’t see that scared, skinny little kid, Steve? You don’t think I don’t see how sad you are? How afraid? Just because I don’t know the way to help you doesn’t mean I don’t _want_ to. And anyone who _can’t_ or _doesn’t_ see him -- sees _you_ \-- doesn’t deserve your time, no matter how good the sex is.”

“I don’t know. The sex is really amazing.” Steve manages a smile, but she doesn’t smile in return. “I’m in love with him. I don’t know how to make that stop no matter how he feels about me.”

“I take it back. You’re worse than an idiot.” She sighs. “I need a drink.”

There’s a knock on the door and Steve takes a deep breath and blows it out before going to answer it. He knows JARVIS could do it easily, but Steve likes opening the door and pretending he’s not in the space-age future, and he especially likes opening the door to Bucky.

“Hey.”

“Hey.” Bucky curves his hand around Steve’s cheek and leans in, kissing him. “Long time no see.”

“Only because you have to leave at some stupid time in the morning.”

Bucky shrugs and comes inside. “Blame Stark. He’s the one who doesn’t sleep or eat, and so I have to be prepared when JARVIS tells me he needs an omelet.”

“Stark ruins everything.” Steve shuts the door. “Nat’s here.”

“Oh, goody. Does she have knives handy? I mean, I’m pretty handy with a blade, but I’m not really interested in testing myself against the Black Widow.”

“Is there a reason I should use knives on you, Barnes?” She walks into the room with a glass of something in her hand. “Because if there is, I’d be happy to oblige.”

“You have the most frightening friends.” 

Steve grabs Bucky and pulls him close, Bucky’s back against Steve’s chest, Steve’s chin on Bucky’s shoulder. “You’re my friend.”

“I can be scary.” Bucky turns his head and kisses the side of Steve’s nose. “So, Thanksgiving’s next week.”

“You’ll probably be busy, huh?”

“Actually, Mark and I take turns on holidays, and this year I have Christmas, so I was wondering if you wanted to come to my parents’ house for dinner. I mean, it’s no Stark feast, but what is?” He leans his head against Steve’s. “I don’t even have to cook, so we can just hang out.”

“Yeah? Really?”

“Yeah.” Bucky rests his hands on top of Steve’s. “I mean, barring any aliens, creatures, monsters, evil scientists, or blobs of goo.”

“I’ll tell them that I’m busy.” 

“Good, now unhand me so I can go take a shower.” He gets out of Steve’s grip and heads out of the room, waving at Natasha. “Good to see you.”

Steve watches him go then turns to look at Natasha. “I’m sure he really meant that, no matter how it sounded.”

“He’s inviting you home to meet the parents.” She smiles, dangerously sharp. “Maybe I won’t have to kill him.”

**

Thanksgiving starts well. Steve wakes Bucky up with a hot and dirty blow job before he uses half a bottle of lube and works four fingers inside him before Bucky’s begging for Steve’s cock. He fucks him slowly, letting his own orgasm build up until it’s on the edge of painful before he comes, hips still thrusting as if he can bury himself in Bucky.

“You’re a menace,” Bucky groans as he wraps his arms around Steve’s neck and pulls him in for a messy, hungry kiss. “How am I going to face my parents when all I can think about is doing that without a condom so I can feel you inside me all day?”

It’s Steve’s turn to groan as he buries his face against Bucky’s neck. “Buck…”

“Or thinking about returning the favor and fisting you with the metal hand.”

Steve’s hips jerk and he pushes deeper inside Bucky. “Fuck, how am _I_ going to face your parents thinking about _that_?”

Bucky laughs roughly and kisses him again. “They’re going to love you.”

“They’re okay with you bring Captain America home for dinner?”

“Um. Well.” Bucky’s brow furrows and something curls like ice in Steve’s stomach. “They don’t actually know you’re Captain America. I mean, they know I’m seeing a guy named Steve, but I didn’t go into more detail than that.”

“Is this like that Sidney Poitier movie?” Steve eases away from Bucky and sits at the edge of the bed. “Sam made me watch it when we were discussing the Civil Rights Movement.”

“Steve, you’re not a secret. I just wanted them to know I liked someone without them knowing…”

“That I’m Captain America. Right.” The ice expands, tightening around Steve’s heart, burning his lungs. “Well, that’s not going to change, so maybe I shouldn’t go.”

“No. That’s not what I mean.” Bucky sits up as well, his legs bracketing Steve as he leans against his back. “I know people are going to look at me and think I’m with Captain America because… Because he’s _Captain America_. I told them about Steve because _that’s_ who I’m with.”

Steve wishes the words helped more than they do. Wishes that Bucky wasn’t saying everything Steve wants to hear because, hearing it, he doesn’t believe it. “Guess I should shower then.”

“I could help you with that.”

“Yeah.” Steve smiles because that’s what he does when his heart is breaking. “Conserve water.”

“Given how long I intend this shower to last, I’m not sure that’s true at all.”

**

Steve knows it’s a mistake the minute Bucky’s mom opens the door and looks at him. The all too familiar expressions of “that guy looks just like Captain America” followed by “that _is_ Captain America” and then “what the fuck do I do now” run over her features before she clears her throat. “Er, hello.” She hugs Bucky, but her eyes never leave Steve’s face. “You… Well, you’re Steve. Obviously.”

He nods his head. “Ma’am.”

“Well.” She backs up a step after releasing Bucky. “Come in. Both of you. Come in.” 

Bucky grabs Steve’s hand and leads him inside the house. It’s suffused with the smells of bread and turkey and apples and butter. Steve looks at Bucky’s mom. “Smells delicious.”

“Well, hopefully we have enough. Your appetite is pretty much legend.” Steve flushes in embarrassment as she leads them toward the kitchen. “George, honey. Come meet Steve.”

Bucky’s dad straightens up from where he’s checking on the turkey and stands stock still. Bucky squeezes Steve’s hand tightly, but the look of pure dislike on Bucky’s father’s face takes the comfort out of the gesture. “Mr. Barnes. It’s nice to meet you, sir.”

“Captain.”

“Please. Call me Steve.”

“James, can I see you in the other room, please?”

“Dad.”

“ _James_.”

Bucky gives Steve a weak smile and mouths a quick “sorry”. He follows his dad out and Steve stands there, unsure of what to do. The urge to bolt out of the house is nearly overwhelming. Bucky’s mother moves to the sink and doesn’t look at him. “Why don’t you go in the living room, Steve.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Steve gets out of the kitchen as quickly as he can and perches on the edge of the sofa. The house is immaculate which, for some reason, makes him feel dirty. He takes a candy out of the dish on the coffee table and unwraps it, sticking it in his mouth to get the taste of ashes off his tongue.

“Dad, you’re embarrassing me.”

“You brought him here.”

“Yeah, Dad. We’re seeing each other. You’ve never had a problem with any of the other guys I’ve brought home, and I’m pretty sure on a scale of Brock to Steve I’m on the _right_ end of the spectrum.” 

Steve knows he shouldn’t listen and he tries not to, but the house isn’t that big, they’re not being that quiet, and his enhanced hearing isn’t something he can exactly turn off. 

“Just tell me you haven’t slept with him.”

“First of all, that’s none of your goddamned business, and second…”

“He’s your great-grandfather.”

“I don’t know what you’re…”

“Peggy Carter. She had a kid when she came back from the war. It was all hush-hush. The SSR didn’t want anyone to know she was pregnant with Captain America’s bastard child. It was covered up. The baby was adopted out. Your grandfather Isaac was adopted out.”

Steve wants to barrel out of the house, but he knows he can’t, so he leaves as quietly as possible. He manages to make it a few blocks at a dead run before his stomach cramps and he stumbles to a stop. His hands dig into his knees as he leans over, retching into the gutter. 

He digs out his phone and dials, wiping his mouth until it feels raw. Natasha answers after two rings. “Steve?”

“Come pick me up. Please.”

It must be something in his voice, because she doesn’t hesitate. “I’ll be right there.”

**

Steve doesn’t have JARVIS do the research for him. Tony’s got the computers rigged so he has the clearance to get in almost anywhere, so Steve traces birth and marriage records. The SSR and Shield were good at covering things up, but not as good as Tony Stark’s ability to expose everything to the light.

He hasn’t talked to anyone, even refusing to answer the few questions Natasha asked him on the way back to the Tower. He hasn’t been home, and he’s had JARVIS keep everyone away. He calls for a car and goes to the nursing home Peggy’s in. It takes him several hours to work up the courage to go into her room.

She’s lucid, excited to see him for a few moments until she really looks at him. “Darling, what’s wrong?”

“Why didn’t you tell me I had a son?”

Emotions flicker through her eyes and she swallows. “We don’t know that he’s yours. After… Later when it was possible to tell, the records were gone. They didn't want me finding him, you see. They burned the adoption records.”

Steve swallows and shakes his head, unable to look at her. It makes some sort of sense. He hasn’t been about to look at himself in the mirror at all either. “You should have told me, Peg. Tony could have…”

“Darling. Steve. _Howard_ made sure the records were taken care of. There’s nothing for Tony to find.”

“I was able to find the records. And the fact that my great-grandson now knows that we’re related says that might be a goddamn lie.” Steve clears his throat. “You should have told me.”

“I know.” She reaches out her hand, but Steve can’t take it. Not now. “You deserved that. Deserved a family, but…”

“I have to go.” He turns away and goes to leave, stopping in the doorway. “You lied to me, Peggy. I never thought you’d do that.” He goes to the car and sits inside it, trying to hold back the tears that burn in his eyes. Finally he draws a breath that burns at his raw throat. “Take me back to the Tower, please. Drop me off at Tony’s garage.”

The driver doesn’t say anything, and Steve’s never been more grateful.

Steve goes to Europe for a mission two days later, then on another the day after he comes back. He sleeps on the Quinjet between them, and between the last one and the next. He’s barely in the Tower for over two months and, when he is, he doesn’t leave his apartment. The only time he talks to the other Avengers -- to _anyone_ \-- is on missions and in debriefs, and he refuses to let anyone go off on tangents.

He has the lock engaged on the training room, working on his fifth time through the course without a mistake. He tags the far wall and JARVIS ends the simulation. “I’m not done.”

“Yeah. You are.” He turns and Natasha is leaning on the closed door. “I’ve let this go for two months, hoping you’d talk to one of us, but that’s apparently not happening.”

“Maybe because I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Tony’s about to have JARVIS start monitoring you.”

“I’m _fine_.”

“You want to tell me what happened? Because you went from being in love and on top of the world to looking like shit. You barely talk, you never come out of your apartment, and you let all your calls go to voicemail to the point where I think you let your phone die. So you need to talk to someone. Me or someone else. But you need to do it.”

“Peggy had a kid.” Steve slumps against the wall and slides down to the floor. “When she came to the States after the war.It was kept a secret and the baby was adopted out. His name was Isaac. Isaac Barnes.”

Natasha’s eyebrows disappear under her hair. “Barnes.”

“Yes.”

“As in…”

“Yes.”

“Shit.” She sinks to the floor as well, still on the opposite side of the room. “So he’s…”

“Great-grandson.” Steve laughs, but it sounds more like a choked sob. “So, you know. There’s that. Surprise.”

“Steve…”

“So I don’t want to talk about it. I don’t want Tony to give me shit. I don’t want Clint to feel sorry for me. I don’t want Thor to tell me about how his shield-brothers fuck their own family members. I don’t want anyone to say anything. Because there’s nothing _to_ say. No way to make this better, to make it right.” 

“Steve…” 

He shakes his head and stops her. “I’m trying to get on with my life, Nat. Let me do that, okay?” He gets up and leaves through the opposite door, going up the back staircase to his apartment. The box of Bucky’s things that has been sitting in the hallway is gone now, and he doesn’t know if it’s just coincidence or if Natasha had anything to do with it. 

He showers and changes into his standard incognito outfit of jeans, t-shirt, leather jacket, and baseball cap. He gets on the elevator and rides down, leaning against the wall and staring at the ceiling. He wants another mission, something to focus on that isn’t his own pathetic life. He wants something outside himself that won’t _hurt_.

“Don’t give me that, Jason. I told you that this needed to go up immediately, not five years from now when the fucking food is cold.” Bucky shoves the cart inside with one hand while he jabs at the button on his phone with the other. He glances up and freezes, staring at Steve with wide eyes. “St-Steve.”

Steve pushes past him and tugs the elevator doors open, telling JARVIS to stop as he grabs the floor above and hauls himself out. His stomach is churning again and he calls Tony as he hurries to the stairwell and down the steps at a run. 

“Stark.”

“I need a new place to live.”

“New as in from the Tower or from your apartment or what?”

“New. Find me somewhere that isn’t… Look, Tony, I know you and I aren’t the best of friends, but you know I wouldn’t ask you if it weren’t important, so please.”

“Steve. Steve.” Tony snaps out his name and cuts off Steve’s ramble. “Tell me what you need.”

“I need…” He hates that he can feel tears burning his eyes, the lump in his throat. “Can.” His voice breaks and he laughs without humor. “Can you put me back in the ice?”

“Where are you?” When he doesn’t answer, Tony’s voice goes sharp. “Steve. Where the fuck are you? Goddamn it. JARVIS. Get me his location and the Mach Five.”

“Speed Racer, sir?”

“Yeah, leave out the chimp. Steve, I’m on my way, okay? Just… God, just don’t do anything stupid.”

His laugh this time is on the edge of hysterical. “Too late for that.”

**

Steve’s sitting on a bench in a small neighborhood park, hunched in on himself, head on his knees and hands folded at the nape of his neck. He hears Tony’s suit fold itself back up into whatever it was before and feels him sit next to him. Steve doesn’t unbend. 

“I’d offer you a drink, but I know it doesn’t do anything for you, so I’m going to drink for both of us.”

“Make it a double.”

“Two doubles coming up.” Tony pulls out a flask as Steve straightens up and opens it, taking a deep swallow. They sit there in silence for a long time, which almost impresses Steve given that Tony’s not good at silence. “It’s that bad?”

“Worse.”

“Are you willing to stay in New York?”

“You need me here, right?”

“Yeah. We need you, Cap.” 

“Then, yeah. New York.”

Tony takes another long pull from the flask.”You want me to fire him?”

“No. Jesus. No.” Steve straightens and stares up at the sky. “No. This isn’t his fault. It’s not anyone’s fault. Maybe mine. Probably mine.” He laughs. “Your dad was wrong, you know?”

“Howard wasn’t wrong about anything.”

“You’re a better man than I am.”

Tony chokes on his drink. “You, on the other hand, are definitely wrong.”

“I’m not anything like he thought I was. I’m not anything like I thought I was. I’m still in love with him. Still want him and…”

“Is this the gay thing? Bisexual? Whatever? Because I thought you knew that I’m--”

“Just find me a place to live, Tony? Please? I can be okay if you just do that for me.”

“Yeah, Cap.” Tony’s voice is soft and careful like it never is. “I can do that.”

**

It doesn’t help. 

Any time there’s food in the Tower, any time there’s a luncheon or a dinner, an event with hors d'oeuvres, all Steve can think about is Bucky. When he’s home in his new apartment and new bed, all he can think about is Bucky. Any time there’s not a mission, all he can think about is Bucky. He’s not sure what that means about him, what it makes him.

He feels like he should go to confession, but he’s not sure he’d know where or when to start. Does seventy years in the ice count in the time since his last? What’s his biggest sin? Coveting the body he now has? Saying he wanted to fight bullies when he knew that war wasn’t about fighting but killing? Burying himself in the ice with the sure knowledge that he’d die? Being a pawn for SHIELD and, by extension, Hydra? Fucking his own --

He cuts the thought off, because it still makes his stomach twist, so he spends half of his mornings bent over his toilet to try and rid himself of the aftereffects of the dreams he has about Bucky, the guilt at night when he can’t help but bring himself off with memories of him. 

Still, he’s an expert at compartmentalizing, so he shoves everything into the box inside himself labeled “Steve Rogers” and plays Captain America like he’s supposed to. He feels the other Avengers watch him closely, like they’re waiting for him to lose control. He ignores them as well, doing his job saving the world.

They get home late from Bulgaria and, even though he hasn’t done it in a long time, he falls asleep in the Tower. His alarm goes off and he gets up, waiting for the Keurig Tony bought him for his single cups of coffee. He’s almost finished when he gets to the conference room, and he’s hoping that catering -- not the kitchen, the kitchen isn’t in charge of beverages -- has already dropped off the coffee urns.

He lowers his cup as he walks in, freezing when he sees Bucky sitting at the table.

“Please.” Bucky stands up. “Please don’t run.”

“I can’t be here.”

“I’m not him.” He swallows and Steve can’t help but watch the motion of his throat. “Who you think I am. What you think I am.”

“I’ve seen the records. You are.”

“No. No, I’m not.” He walks around the table, still keeping his distance from Steve. “I just need you to listen, okay? Please?”

Steve’s eyes dart to the door. “The rest of the team will be here in a few minutes.”

“Tony had JARVIS change your alarm. It’s early. They won’t be coming anytime soon. So please. If… Please.” 

Steve takes a shaky breath and moves to the table, sitting down as far from Bucky as he can. He can’t help looking him over, taking everything in. Bucky’s lost weight, his eyes are shadowed, but he’s still beautiful. So fucking beautiful it hurts. Folding his hands on the table, Steve takes another deep breath and meets Bucky’s eyes. “Go ahead.”

“I had Tony do a DNA test.”

Steve’s out of his chair like a shot. “You _what_?”

“He’s the only one with a sample of your blood. I needed… I needed to know. For sure. I didn’t… I needed to know.”

“Why? You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Neither did you, Steve.” Bucky looks at him, eyes imploring. “Please. Sit down?”

Steve sinks back down in his chair and rakes his fingers through his hair. “So you told Tony who you are. Fuck. So Tony knows. That I fucked…”

“I’m _not_ him. Tony ran every test there is to determine if we shared DNA. I think he made up a few too. We’re not related. No matter what my dad says or believes.”

“It doesn’t matter what the truth is, Bucky. Your dad _does_ say it, believe it. You think he’s going to believe tests that Tony Stark runs? Tests run by my teammate?” Steve shakes his head. “In his eyes you’re exactly who he says you are, and I’m exactly who he says I am.”

“I _am_ Peggy’s great-great-grandson. She did have a child when she came back from Europe. But it wasn’t yours. I went to see her. Meet her. She told me that she slept with someone after you crashed the Valkyrie. Got drunk and slept with someone. She knew that if people knew they would assume it was yours. And she didn’t know, but she didn’t want to put that on you -- your legacy -- or on the baby.” He looks at Steve, eyes wide. “Now, if you want to be freaked out that you slept with the great-great grandson of your former girlfriend, well… I can’t stop you, but we’re _not_ related, Steve. I swear.”

He pushes a file down the table and Steve catches it, pulling it close. There are charts and scientific words he doesn’t understand, but each new set of papers ends with “no match.” 

“They tested your blood pre- and post-serum. Just in case it was in the recessive part of your genes, but it’s not. In either. Steve. Please.” Bucky gets up and it’s clear he’s nervous as he walks toward Steve’s end of the table. “If you won’t believe me, believe science.” He gets close enough to touch Steve’s shoulder. “You’re a wonder of science. You of all people should believe in that.”

“I can’t just…”

“He had the FBI labs run it. Tons of outside agencies evaluated the specimens. My dad will have to believe that. Everyone knows that Stark isn’t a fan of government agencies. I miss you. I… Fuck. I miss you so goddamned much.” He uses the strength of his metal hand to turn Steve then sinks to his knees in front of him. He reaches up and runs his fingers along Steve’s jaw. “Just think about it, okay? Please? Just… Talk to Tony and think about it. Promise me.”

Steve stares down at him and nods before he even realizes what he’s doing. Bucky closes his eyes and leans in, his head against Steve’s chest. Steve’s hand comes up, stroking Bucky’s hair, curving over the back of his head. Bucky makes a small noise and presses closer, breath warm against Steve’s sternum. “I can’t…”

“You don’t have to do anything more. But. For me? Just think about it. Please.”

“I will,” Steve says, his voice scraping his throat. “I will.”

**

Steve takes the file with him to his room in the Tower when the meeting’s over, sitting on the couch with it and his laptop. He looks up words he doesn’t understand and tries to figure it all out on his own to make sure that the words telling him he and Bucky can be together are true. It’s graphs and numbers and lines, and nothing actually makes sense even after researching. 

He sighs and drops his head onto the back of the couch. “JARVIS?”

“Yes, Captain Rogers?”

“Can you scan these and walk me through what they mean?”

“Is this in regards to Mr. Barnes?”

Steve closes his eyes tight. “Yes.”

“Sir has already uploaded them to my database.”

“Of course he has. Why not let my humiliation out there for everyone to see? I mean, what are a few rumors of incest between friends and teammates?”

“I can assure you, Captain, that this information has gone no farther than Sir and myself and Mr. Barnes and now you. Sir has no intention of embarrassing you.”

“Have you _met_ Tony?”

“When it has truly mattered, Captain, has he let you down?”

Steve sighs. “Tell me what it means? Please?”

“The easiest way to summarize is to simply state that the number of matching chromosomal segments translates into the potential degree of relationship. There are forty-four autosomal chromosomes that, all totalled, equal 6800 centimorgan, which is the measure of genetic linkage. The percent of matching determines the closeness of the genetic relationship.”

“I think I understood one word in three. Can you dumb it down even more?”

“Depending on how many matches you and Mr. Barnes have, we’re able to determine if you’re related.”

“Right. Okay.”

“Identical twins will have one hundred percent match. All of their chromosomes are the same. Parents would have a fifty percent match, siblings a thirty-seven point five percent, grandparents are a twenty-five percent. With your case, a great-grandparent would be twelve percent.”

“And isn’t that a relatively easy number to get? We all come from someone, somewhere.” 

“Numerous tests were run, Captain. Numerous types of tests. Sir knew that you would not trust one result, so he had various labs run the tests, none of which are affiliated with Stark Industries. The data puts your match at less than two percent. None of the tests show conclusive evidence of a relationship between yourself and Mr. Barnes beyond one you choose to make yourself.”

“But it’s not one hundred percent sure.”

“Captain Rogers, I would say that in our world today, absolutely nothing is.”

**

He has JARVIS let Tony know to call him if they need to save the world, and then he gets on his bike and rides. He doesn’t have a destination in mind, just starts westward and follows roadside signs. It’s not often he gets to just feel like a person, not a superhero or an icon. Before Bucky, the only time he had was after the Chitauri invasion when he’d taken off on the bike. When he’s in the small towns he can walk around and just be someone passing through, stopping at the local coffee shop or bakery or deli before heading out again.

He’s not searching for something so much as trying to clear his head. Even with evidence to the contrary, it’s hard to get over the horror he’d felt when Bucky’s father’s words had washed over him. Even worse is the flush of gratitude he’d been denying when he’d thought that he had a family, that somewhere beyond him there was a part of Sarah Rogers still living. He’s not sure which had made him feel guiltier.

But now none of it’s true. He’s the last of his family just like everyone knew he would be, but for different reasons altogether. Not that he’d wish the serum on anyone else, but the thought that he’d created something good, something permanent that was all Steve Rogers and nothing Captain America had, for tiny moments scattered into his nearly overwhelming guilt, made Steve proud.

And now none of it’s true. Once he’d allowed himself to believe the DNA tests, it had felt like a crushing weight had been lifted off his shoulders. Relief for himself, for Bucky. But even now, two weeks after he left New York, he’s still not sure if he can look at Bucky the way he did, no matter how much he wants to, no matter how much he wants him.

And, god, he wants him so fucking much.

The sun is setting when he stops, and he watches the sky turn orange and red, then purple and blue until the stars seem to light up one at a time and then all at once. The reflection of them in the lake makes it seem like he’s caught between two skies, two worlds. It’s a familiar feeling. He pulls out his phone.

There’s a long quiet even after the call is picked up, and then Bucky’s voice comes across the line. “Steve?”

“I’m at Lake Cayuga. Can you come up? I can talk to Tony if he doesn’t want to give you the time off.”

“I’ll be there.”

“I’ll text you the GPS coordinates once I find a place to stay.” He chews his lower lip and glances up at the sky. “Buck?”

“Yeah?”

Steve wonders if his own voice sounds that hopeful. “I miss you.”

** 

Steve doesn’t sleep. He sits out on the balcony of his room and props his feet up on the railing, watching as night lightens to day. He can’t see the sun come up since his room faces west, but he can watch the tendrils of light shoot across the sky like fireworks through clouds. 

There’s a knock on his door and he walks inside, opening the door to Bucky. It feels just as good, maybe better, than it ever has. “Hey.”

“Hey.” Bucky has his hands shoved in the pockets of his leather jacket. “Should I…”

“Oh. Sorry. Come in. Let me get them to bring up a pot of coffee.”

“I’ve been mainlining coffee all night. I think if I have any more, I’ll shake right out of my skin, and that’ll just be embarrassing.” He looks around the room, eyes avoiding Steve. “I know I’m early. You probably weren’t expecting me until this afternoon or evening.”

“It’s good to see you.”

Bucky’s breath hitches slightly and he nods. “You too. You look… you have a beard. And mustache. It’s very… I like it.”

“It’s just until I go back. It helps keep people from recognizing me. No one expects Captain America to have facial hair.”

Bucky takes a step forward and stops, one hand reaching out. “Oh. Shit. Sorry.” He starts to drop his hand, but Steve catches it and guides it to his face, letting Bucky’s fingers brush against the beard. Bucky sucks in a sharp breath. “St-Steve.”

He’s quiet for a long time, holding Bucky’s hand against his jaw. “So. Nothing in the ‘How to be Captain America’ guidebook told me what to do in this situation.”

“There’s a Captain America guidebook?” Bucky rolls his eyes at Steve’s small smile. “Well, if it helps, ‘The Guide to Being Bucky Barnes’ is missing the chapter on what to do when the guy you’re in love with might be your great-grandfather. So, you know, I think we’re both in the same boat here.”

“Do you? Are you?”

“What?” Bucky frowns for a moment and then his eyes widen, then he immediately frowns again. “Am I in love with you? Is _that_ what you’re asking?”

“I…”

“We were practically living together in three different places, we spent all of our free time together, I smacked you on the head for letting some alien bug get too close to you, I made you breakfast, I… I fucking invited you home to meet my parents, as disastrous as that turned out to be. And you want to know if I love you?”

“No. Do you…” Steve exhales shakily. “I’ve never actually had some big romantic confession or anything before, so I’m probably fucking this up. Hugh Grant movies also didn’t cover this scenario.” 

“Just don’t tell me you ardently admire me or I will punch you for real.”

“Who are you in love with?”

Bucky’s frown deepens, making all the hints of a smile disappear. “I told you who at Thanksgiving. I was bringing Steve home. Because Steve is who I’m dating. Was dating. There is very little I like about Captain America. He has impossible standards, everyone uses him for propaganda, he’s the most reckless and stupid person when he’s fighting a battle, and he’s away from home too often. In fact, the _only_ thing I like about Captain America is how good you look in his suit.”

Steve snorts a laugh. “I don’t have impossible standards.”

“He does. He’s the pinnacle of every good thing in the world, and I’m just human. Terribly human. Just like Steve Rogers.” Bucky lets his fingers fall from Steve’s beard and down to his chest. “Who has to be human because he’s the most insecure person I’ve ever met. He’s also clueless. So I’m pretty sure to get through to him, I’m going to have to look him straight in the eye and tell him that I love him. I’ve loved him for a long time and, even though the sex is fucking amazing, that’s not why I’m with him. I mean, it doesn’t _hurt_...”

Reaching out, Steve hooks his hand behind Bucky’s back and tugs him in closer. He bites his lower lip as he looks down at Bucky’s mouth. His gaze stays fixed there and Bucky’s lips part as if in response. He frames Bucky’s face with his hands. “I love you. I love you and I want you and I need you.”

Bucky puts his hands on either side of Steve’s face, mirroring his touch, and pulls Steve closer, kissing him. It’s light and soft and Steve doesn’t realize he’s closed his eyes until he’s blinking them open and looking at Bucky through his lashes. 

“Please don’t leave me again.”

“I won’t.”

Bucky nods. “Because if you do, I’ll… Well, I’ll get Iron Man to kick your ass. Or Black Widow. She really is the scariest.”

“If I leave you, I’ll deserve it.” Steve kisses him again, a series of small kisses that cause Bucky to growl low in his throat and hold his face, just looking at him. “I think we… I think we have to go back to the beginning. I can’t just pick up where we left off. There’s this place in my head that hasn’t gotten to the DNA tests yet, that hasn’t gotten past the line I thought we crossed.”

“I don’t think we can go back to being just friends.” Bucky lets his fingers brush over Steve’s cheeks. “I can’t not love you.”

“I know. I’m the same way. But… I don’t think I’m who I thought I was, because all this time, even thinking we were related, all I could think about was you. I’m not sure what that says about me.”

“So what do we do now?”

“I have absolutely no clue.” Steve laughs. “Maybe we could just hang out around here today? Be tourists or something.”

“Yeah.” Bucky exhales. “Yeah. I could do that. Do you think there could be food involved? Because if something doesn’t soak up all this coffee in my stomach I’m going to end up spending the day on your bathroom floor getting acquainted with your toilet.”

“There’s a cafe down the street. We could try there?”

“Okay.” Bucky smiles and shakes his head. “I suppose we’re going to have to let each other go at some point.”

Steve hasn’t even realized that he and Bucky are still in each other’s arms, still touching. “Probably. Otherwise breakfast is just going to be awkward.”

**

They eat and walk around, stopping in little shops and skirting along the edge of the lake. Steve keeps smiling to himself, because this is why he fell in love with Bucky -- his humor and his intelligence and the fact that Steve doesn’t have to be anyone else when he’s with him. They get along like they’ve been friends forever. 

It doesn’t hurt that Bucky’s goddamn gorgeous. 

“So, not to put a damper on the evening,” Bucky sighs and picks up a rock, skipping it across the surface of the lake. “I talked to my dad.”

Steve stiffens. “Oh?”

“Yeah. I took him to meet Peggy. It was. Hmm. What’s the best way to put this? Awkward as hell? Yeah. That works.” He smiles a little, just the corners of his mouth twitching up. “I have never seen my dad so intimidated by a woman. And that includes my mom. Who is very intimidating.”

“She intimidated the hell out of me.”

He skips another rock. “He looked at all the tests. He talked with her.” Steve waits, sensing Bucky has more he wants to say. Finally he exhales roughly. “He still doesn’t want me seeing you. I’m not sure he completely believes the tests or if he’s just been thinking this for so long that he can’t quite give it up.”

Steve digs up a rock with his toe and grabs it, handing it to Bucky to skip. “I don’t want to make things hard for you and your family.”

“Mostly he thinks you’re too old for me.” Bucky looks at Steve out of the corner of his eye and then laughs. “I’m kidding. Kinda. I think it might be good to put off another family gathering for a while.”

Steve reaches out and rests his hand over the nape of Bucky’s neck, thumb rubbing the side of his throat. Probably for the best.”

“So.”

“So. Did you drive up here?”

“No. Tony had Happy give me a ride. I think he wasn’t planning on giving us a chance to mess this up.” He leans his head back slightly so that he’s pressed more firmly against Steve’s hand. “I’m kind of hoping I can hitch a ride with you, or I’m going to be seriously late for work tomorrow.”

Steve huffs a laugh and then, with a hint of pressure from his hand, gets Bucky to turn toward him. He looks down at him, getting lost in the warmth of Bucky’s gaze. “I think I can give you a ride.”

Bucky groans softly and presses closer, tilting his head up and closing his eyes as he presses his lips against Steve’s. Steve matches his groan and slides his free hand to the small of Bucky’s back, keeping them close. He breaks off the kiss, and he and Bucky stand there, breathing into each other’s mouths. 

“We should go. I’ll take you home.”

Bucky steps back and Steve lets his hands fall away. “Tony said you got a new apartment.”

“Yeah. I wasn’t sleeping really well. The tower, my apartment. Everything.”

“I know. I get it.” Bucky reaches over and grabs Steve’s hand, squeezing it. “Let’s go.”

**

They’re about fifty miles from Manhattan when Steve gets an emergency alert on his phone. He digs a comm unit out of his jacket and puts it in his ear, increasing his speed as soon as he’s got both hands back on the bike. 

“Go, Tony.”

“How do you feel about twelve foot Nazi robots?”

“Not particularly fond.”

“Yeah, they don’t like us either. Where are you? I'll send a jet.”

Steve gives him the location. “We’re on the bike, so it might be faster for us to just meet you at the tower. Have my shield and suit ready to go for me?”

“I’ll be your express elevator to the changing room. You bringing Barnes in with you?”

“I figured you don’t want me to take the time to drop him at home.”

“Nah. He can hang here and make us snacks. JARVIS is tracking you. Go faster, huh?”

“Yeah, I’ll do my best to break some land speed records. Rogers out.” 

Bucky’s hands are tight on his waist and he leans in even closer. Steve’s not sure if he’s talking, he can’t hear anything over the sound of the bike and the wind as he weaves between cars as the traffic gets heavier. He breaks more than a few laws as he races to the tower, and Bucky’s knees are digging into him. The garage doors are opening before Steve even gets there, and he screeches the bike to a halt.

Bucky climbs off and takes a breath. “Jesus Christ.”

“Yeah. Sorry.” He takes off his helmet then leans in and kisses Bucky hard. “Gotta go.” He runs for the elevator, stripping out of his jacket and shirt as he goes. He gets into the armory where Sam, Nat, and Tony are waiting. Grabbing his suit, he strips out of his pants and pulls it on, shoving on his boots and grabbing his shield. “Let’s go.”

Nat lands the Quinjet and she and Steve get out quickly. Clint fires an arrow and Natasha’s got her gloved hands on the line and is sliding down to the ground. Steve doesn’t bother, throwing himself off the building. Sam swoops in and grabs him by the shield harness.

“White boy, you are dumb as a rock.”

“Aw, I knew you’d catch me.” He hits the ground running when Sam lets him go, sending his shield flying. Natasha works at getting people out of the way, because New Yorkers and tourists apparently think capturing this sort of thing for Instagram is a good idea. Steve manages to jump over a car and land in front of a little girl, dropping his shield in front of her just in time to deflect a laser blast. 

He tells her to go with the nice lady in black, ignoring Natasha’s smirk as he heads back into the fray. Tony and Rhodey are above, repulsors firing repeatedly. Sam’s guns echo the blasts, and they’re all sometimes lost in the explosions from Clint’s arrows. Steve keeps the shield moving, not even needing to think of trajectories. 

“Where the hell are they coming from? Can any of you in the sky get a visual?”

“They appear to be, well.” He can almost hear Clint’s shrug. “Appearing.”

“Let’s find out where from and see if we can shut them down. Tony? You or Rhodey get on that.”

“Sir, yes sir.” 

“You still outrank me, Rhodes.”

“I’m respecting my elders.”

Steve snorts and hits one of the robots in the neck. The shield cuts cleaning through the metal, but it hits a second robot in the chest and sticks there. “Fuck.” 

He runs up the first robot as it falls, jumping and grabbing onto his shield by the edges. The robot unhinges its jaw, metal cracking Steve on the head. He curses again, hanging onto the shield tightly. 

He can hear bullets pinging off the robot’s body, but he can’t get enough leverage to get the shield free. He finally manages to plant his feet against its chest and pull. The shield wrenches loose and Steve curses again, turning himself in mid-air as he falls, getting the shield under him. 

“Cap!” All the Avengers’ voices blur together. “Look out!”

He starts to roll over, bringing the shield around, but then the world goes black.

**

Steve wakes up and promptly decides it’s the worst decision he’s made in his life. And that includes trying to take on the Sullivan triplets when he was sixteen. He groans and even that hurts.

“He’s awake!” He hears a voice cry out and it makes his head ring. He squeezes his eyes closed, and that hurts too. He’s not sure if there’s anywhere related to his body that doesn’t hurt like fuck. 

He hears Tony’s voice next. “Doctor first.”

“Let me in there.”

“Barnes. Doctor first.” 

Steve loses some time after that, sinking in and out of consciousness. When he wakes up the next time, his head is pounding and his body aches, but it all feels distant. He manages to open his eyes, and the first thing he sees is Natasha, perched on the end of the bed, sitting in a way that would be considered precarious for almost everyone else, but not for her. He opens his mouth, but the only thing that comes out is a croak.

“I’d give you water so you could talk, but then you’d talk, and I want you to listen. There was a portal inside a warehouse. We got it shut down. We took a vote and Nazi robots are everyone’s least favorite robots. Especially since one of them stepped on you. No one else has ever gotten stepped on.”

He opens his mouth again, but she shakes her head and points at him. He presses his lips together and nods.

“You broke about -- how many bones are in the body? Two hundred and six? Yeah. You broke about a hundred and twelve of them. You’re going to be laid up in here for a while, and you’re going to have to deal with it. The good news is that your spine didn’t get _broken_. Also, Barnes is here, but we had to give him a sedative to calm him down, so he’s passed out in the next room.”

“What do you mean you sedated him?”

Natasha seems willing to allow the question. “He was a little hysterical.”

Steve frowns, but it hurts. “Why?” Natasha gives him an arch look and Steve swallows hard. “Right.”

“You two are okay?”

His natural instinct is to shrug, but he manages to stop himself. “Working on it.”

“You know, you don’t automatically stop loving someone because you find out something… problematic. Even if James weren’t the first person you’ve let yourself love since Peggy, you wouldn’t have been able to just turned those feelings off.” She gently touches his hand. “And this wasn’t just about your feelings for him.”

“It’s hard to get past. It was real for a while.”

“I’m not telling you to just go back to where you were.”

“I know we can’t. We talked about that.” Steve closes his eyes. “Doesn’t mean I love him any less.”

Natasha leans down and kisses Steve softly on the forehead. “You’re a pretty good guy, Steve Rogers. I have faith you’ll figure it out.”

“What would you do?”

“I don’t have emotions.” He opens one eye and she smiles. “You love him. He loves you. I don’t think that’s something you’re supposed to just let go.”

“Honestly? I don’t think I could.” He sighs, and it hurts as well. “Could you have him come in when he’s awake?”

“I’m not sure we’d be able to keep him out.” She kisses Steve on the forehead again. “Try and sleep. Let the serum do its work.”

“For what it’s worth, I wasn’t trying to get hurt.”

“I know. I can tell the difference between a suicide mission and just being an idiot.”

**

The next time Steve wakes up, his head doesn’t hurt nearly as much. There’s pressure on his left hand, so he turns his head. His neck twinges, but he manages to hold back the wince. Bucky’s head is resting there, his own hand clenching Steve’s.

“Hey.” His voice is still rough.

Bucky jerks his head up, his eyes wide. “Hi. Hey.” Steve tries to turn his hand and bites back a pained sound. Bucky frowns. “No. Don’t do that. Don’t move.”

Steve gives him a minute shake of his head and manages to turn his wrist, his palm cupping Bucky’s cheek. “Hi.”

“Hi. You scared me.”

“Sorry. Kind of comes with the job.” He strokes his thumb over Bucky’s cheekbone. “I’m glad you’re here.”

“I’m glad you still are too. Because if you’d done something stupid, Rogers, I swear to god, I’d have resurrected you to kill you myself.”

“Despite what the others might think, I’ve never actually done something suicidal on purpose.”

“You flew a plane into the goddamn arctic.”

“Suicide missions don’t count, because they don’t always end in suicide.”

One of Bucky’s eyebrow goes up. “And they let you lead the team?”

“Shut up and come here.”

Bucky smiles and turns his head, kissing Steve’s palm before he stands up and leans over, bracing his hands on either side of Steve’s head. “Here I am.”

“I’m going to guess that my doctors or my team would tell us both that kissing right now is the stupidest thing I could do. But I’m willing to risk it if you are.”

“I bet they’d be able to come up with stupider things.” Bucky’s breath is soft against Steve’s lips, and he can feel Bucky’s smile when their lips meet. It’s soft, barely there, but so perfect. Bucky pulls back, moving one hand so he can brush his thumb over Steve’s bottom lip. “You know, I was willing to take it slow. You didn’t have to break half the bones in your body to keep us from going too far.”

“Don’t make me laugh. Makes my ribs hurt.”

Bucky leans in and kisses him again, not quite as softly. When he pulls back, he catches Steve’s lower lip between his teeth and tugs. Steve moans and Bucky pulls back, releasing it. “I have to go to work.”

“Tell Tony to give you time off.”

“Not fair to my coworkers. I’ve already been off longer than I should have.” He kisses Steve again, and Steve wishes he could lift his arm and touch him, hold him. “I’ll come back tonight.”

“If you’re working, you need to get rest, not sit here next to me while my bones knit back together.”

“I’ll be here tonight. And Tony said I could sleep in the apartment.” Another kiss and then he pulls away again, giving Steve a wry grin. “I pushed for a cot in here, but it seems your teammates and doctors don’t think you know how to behave yourself.”

“Me? I can barely move.”

“I bet you’ll find a way to get in trouble.”

“Even my own boyfriend doesn’t have faith in me.”

Something flashes in Bucky’s eyes and he braces himself over Steve again. His voice drops, his breath slightly ragged. “Say that again.”

It takes a second for it to click in Steve’s brain and then he smiles. “Boyfriend.” He whispers, breathing it against Bucky’s lips. “Partner.” His own breath is short in his chest. “Lover.”

“I love you,” Bucky whispers as he cups the side of Steve’s face and kisses him hard, hungry. “God, I love you.”

Steve returns the kiss with the same fervor. He tries to lift his arms so he can touch him and lets out a muffled cry of pain. Bucky immediately pulls back, breathing hard. Steve carefully rests his hands and arms back on the bed. “W-well. My dick’s not broken.”

Bucky chokes out a laugh. “Not funny. And they’re not going to let me see you if you keep doing stuff like that.”

“Tell them you’re my inspiration to get better.”

“They may decide I’m more inspirational if I’m not around at all.”

“Don’t give them ideas.” He sighs softly and tilts his head. “Go to work. Before I don’t let you go.”

“Don’t do anything stupid, okay?”

“I will lay here in my little broken body like a good boy.”

“Ha. The good boy thing doesn’t work on me. I know you too well.” He doesn’t leave, just looks down at Steve, his expression unreadable. “I didn’t care.”

Steve’s brow furrows. “Care?”

“If it had been true. I didn’t care. I know that should be wrong, and I know that I’m probably a little fucked in the head for thinking it, but I didn’t care. In my head. In my _heart_ , you’re Steve. The rest of the world. The rest of this.” He waves his hand around the room. “None of that matters. While we were apart how I felt -- loving you, wanting you -- none of that changed.”

“Buck.”

He shakes his head, leans in and kisses Steve again. “Get some rest. I’ll come back tonight.”

Steve watches him as he goes, exhaling deeply even though every muscle and half the bones in his body protest. Closing his eyes, he just lets himself drift. Tony had made him watch _An American Werewolf in London_ late one night, and now, when Steve feels his bones knit back together it reminds him of the transformation scene. Everything stretching and realigning and becoming something new, but still the same. 

He huffs a laugh. “JARVIS?”

“Yes, Captain?”

“Would you tell Tony he’s an asshole?”

“I’m afraid that, unless it’s a direct quote, I’m not allowed to use profanity to insult Sir.”

“Oh, feel free to make it a direct quote.”

“Of course, Captain.”

Steve laughs again, and he might be imagining it, but it seems to hurt less. Or maybe he’s just already asleep.

**

“You absolutely suck at following orders.” 

Bucky gives Steve an unimpressed look. “This from the man who tried to get out of bed yesterday.”

“I feel fine.” Which he knows Bucky’s aware of, because he’s spent the last two weeks informing him and anyone else who would listen of exactly that. And, given that Bucky’s spent pretty much every waking moment he isn’t at work with Steve, he’s heard it _a lot_.

“According to your scans, your femur’s not all the way healed, you still have fissures in your spine, and let’s not forget when Banner had to re-break your fibula because you kept _moving_ and fucked it up.” Bucky shifts on his side and gives Steve a triumphant look. “Sadly, there’s nothing we can do about the nose. It keeps staying that way.”

“I don’t like you anymore.” He reaches out a hand and Bucky takes it in his, squeezing lightly. “You’re not allowed to hang out with Natasha ever again.”

“Natasha and I are best friends now, and there’s nothing you can do about it. She loves me more than she loves you.” Steve hmphs and pouts, trying to tug his hand away. Bucky refuses to let him, lifting it up so he can kiss each of Steve’s knuckles. “Also, why are you complaining? I thought you liked waking up to my ugly mug.”

“You should be sleeping in a real bed. You have to work, and that is not compatible with sleeping in a hospital bed.”

“First of all, this isn’t exactly a hospital bed. This is the Tony Stark equivalent, which means it’s probably better quality than the beds in most luxury hotels. Secondly, it’s right next to your bed, and it means I get to sleep here and be with you. With the bonus of being able to keep you from doing stupid shit.”

“I don’t do stupid shit.”

“You tried to get up and walk yesterday.”

“I walked.”

“Yeah, one step before you ended up in a heap, and I’ll have you know, had Thor not been here, Tony was going to have to make new machines to haul your super-soldier-self off the floor. You’re heavy when you’re unconscious.”

“What happened to Mr. Super Strong Metal Arm, huh?”

“He was busy making croque madames for the board of trustees.” Bucky kisses his knuckles again. “So he was unavailable for picking Mr. ‘I Think I Can Do Anything Through Sheer Stubborn Force of Will’ off the floor.”

“To be fair, I’ve done pretty well being that guy.”

“You’re an idiot.”

“Yeah. Whatever. Get in line if you wanna call me names.” He pulls their joined hands toward him and kisses Bucky’s fingers. Without thinking, too caught up at staring into Bucky’s eyes, Steve sucks one of his fingers into his mouth. Bucky’s breath hitches and Steve’s lips part just slightly before he scrapes his teeth over the tip and then sucks again, slightly harder.

Bucky’s breath shakes out of him. Even through the metal, he can feel the heat, wet and pressure of Steve’s tongue. “Steve.”

“Hmm?” He hums and pulls back a bit, using his tongue to coax another of Bucky’s fingers into his mouth. 

“Jesus fuck,” Bucky groans. 

Steve shifts slightly, taking Bucky’s fingers all the way, sliding his tongue between them when he reaches Bucky’s palm before pulling back, licking between them. Bucky’s eyes flutter closed and he turns more toward Steve. Steve takes them deep again, tightening his mouth and sucking harder, tongue rubbing the underside of Bucky’s fingers the same way it would his cock. 

“Steve. Steve. Fuck.” Bucky tugs his hand free and moves it to the back of Steve’s head, pulling him closer. The beds aren’t far apart, so it’s easy to close the small distance, for Bucky to kiss him. They’ve been good and careful, keeping their contact to holding hands and simple kisses and the occasional lingering touch, aware of Steve’s injuries and the slight uncertainty of what they are, not to mention the medical suite’s monitoring capabilities keeping everything at bay. 

But this. Now. Steve tries to get closer. The heat of Bucky's mouth, the press of his tongue shoots lightning through Steve’s veins.His free hand grips the side of Bucky’s bed and pulls it over. He can hear the shift of bone and he vaguely hopes Bruce isn’t going to have to re-break his arm again, but then Bucky’s next to him, on top of him. 

“Fuck.” Bucky whines. Steve holds Bucky’s hips tight and rolls his own. It makes something shatter and suddenly Bucky is propped up on his metal arm over Steve, kissing him, fucking into his mouth with the hunger of months of being apart as they rub and rut against each other like desperate teenagers.

The rest of the world washes away and it’s nothing but them. Breath, sweat, tongue, hands, bodies. There are noises in the air that Steve thinks are likely monitors and sensors and his own desperate begging. Bucky pants into Steve’s mouth, something that might be words on his tongue as he licks at Steve’s lips, the roof of his mouth, his teeth. 

Steve comes, the hot wet on his scrub pants wrenching another whine from Bucky and then he’s coming too. He keeps moving, frantic and desperate, and Steve realizes he’s still rocking up against him, that his cock is still hard. Bucky buries his face against Steve’s neck as he grinds down into him, and just that quickly, Steve’s close again. 

He turns his head and he’s panting Bucky’s name in his ear, begging. Bucky’s moving over him and against him and finally, finally the tight cord holding Steve together completely unfurls. He comes, jerking up as it spills out of him and then he lies there. 

He can feel the hot tracks of tears as they burn down his face into his hair, and he can’t help the rough, gasping sob that rips out of his chest. Bucky doesn’t move, his body rising and falling with Steve’s chest. His breath is hot and wet on Steve’s neck, and it takes a moment for the fog in his brain to lift, for him to realize Bucky’s crying too.

“Hey. Hey.” He lifts his hand and strokes it through Bucky’s hair. “Sh. We’re okay.”

Bucky sniffs and nods without raising his head. “I know.”

“Better than okay.”

“We’re both an embarrassing sticky mess.” Bucky’s voice is low and rough, sounding thick from his tears. “And we really need to get back into your apartment.”

“Every time I _try,_ someone makes me go back to bed.” 

Steve rubs his hand up and down Bucky’s back. Bucky hums in response and then slowly lifts his head and meets Steve’s eyes. “You okay? With what just happened?”

Steve actually takes the time to think rather than just rush to reassure Bucky that everything’s fine. He brings his hand up from the base of Bucky’s spine to the back of his neck and brings him closer, kissing him softly. “Yeah.” He licks his lips and nods. “Yeah. I am.”

**

He doesn’t exactly sneak out of the Tower. He knows that’s probably not physically possible given Tony’s levels of security and paranoia, but he doesn’t tell anyone he’s leaving. He’s dressed in the closest he has to a disguise -- jeans, t-shirt, jacket, hat, sunglasses and, thankfully still, the beard. It’s easy to walk down New York streets and not be recognized or, at least if he does get recognized, people normally leave him alone. It’s comforting.

He takes a cab to the nursing home. He’s glad, for purely selfish reasons, that Sharon had moved Peggy to New York to be closer to her remaining family. Steve knows he wasn’t actually a consideration, but he’s not one to look a gift horse in the mouth.

Well. Actually. He is. He’s likely to stare at it suspiciously for an unprecedented amount of time. 

This one he doesn’t. There’s nothing about Peggy Carter that Steve has ever or will ever take for granted.

Assuming she doesn’t hate him on sight these days.

He gets escorted down to her room, told she’s having a good day. Steve reaches up and scratches his jaw, wondering if he should have shaved before coming to see her. He knocks lightly and walks in to see her sitting up in bed, a small lap desk in front of her. She’s frowning at something with her typical intensity.

“Hey, Peg.”

She doesn’t lift her head, but she raises an eyebrow in acknowledgement. Steve sits beside the bed and waits. Finally she puts down her pen and looks at him. “Hello, Steve.”

“I was hoping we could talk.”

“Well, I’m the exact definition of a captive audience, so I don’t see why it should be a problem.” She gives him a tight smile, and it’s like a knife twisting in his heart.

“I’m sorry.”

“Are you?” She coughs softly and leans forward enough to take a sip from the straw in her glass of water. 

“Yes.” There’s no equivocation in his tone. “I didn’t think. I reacted and I lashed out. All these feelings and thoughts that I never expected, that I never even anticipated might be a possibility blindsided me. I didn’t know what to think or what to feel and there was this horror and shame burning inside because of what I thought Bucky and I had done, and… And I took it out on you. I’m so sorry.”

“If it had been true. If you’d been his great-grandfather. Would you be here right now?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know where I’d be.” He drops his head and frowns down at his hands. “Even with everything that had happened between us, Bucky and I, I still… A part of me still wanted it to be true.That he was my... I wanted to be part of something. I wanted Steve Rogers to be part of something. Captain America’s going to live on no matter what I do, if I’m even around. But Steve Rogers begins and ends here.”

“Darling.” Peggy sighs. “You are the most dramatic boy.” He starts to say something, but she lifts a hand to cut him off. “Captain America is the man who wears the suit. It’s rather like the hammer thing with your friend Thor. He who is worthy, hm? Or she.”

“You’d have to lose the accent to be Captain America,” he tells her with a smile. 

“Don’t know that I could pull off being from Brooklyn.” She reaches out her hand, and Steve takes it gratefully, bringing it to his lips and kissing it, keeping it there. “Now that you’re alive, they can only do so much before a very opinionated man will very forcefully and powerfully tell them that they’re wrong. Captain America can’t be anything you refuse to let him be. And that, darling, is Steve Rogers. The man in the suit is the power behind it. It’s the same as the serum. Schmidt became what he did because of who he was. You became this because it’s who you are.”

He smiles, feeling his face flush, closing his eyes as he holds her frail hand in both of his. 

“You don’t need a passel of children running around with blond hair and blue eyes to have a legacy, Steve. You are a legacy. When or if you retire, step down from your position as Captain America or from the Avengers, anyone in the world could put on that costume, but only if they follow the footsteps of Steven Grant Rogers could they possibly be Captain America.”

Steve’s eyes burn and he chokes softly on the emotions clogging his throat. He kisses her hand hard. “I never did deserve you.”

“Besides, you would have been an utter loss at changing a nappy. Hands like ham hocks. No wonder you’re so bad around children.” She’s smiling, her sometimes hazy eyes bright. “Now. Tell me about your young man.”

“Your great-grandson.”

“He’s very handsome, if I do say so myself. Father’s a big of a prig.”

Steve snorts then coughs, kissing Peggy’s hand one more time before lowering their tangled fingers to the bed. “He lives up to the Carter name. Smart, witty, talented, gorgeous, wicked sense of humor, and completely capable of putting me in my place and kicking my ass.”

“Well, you certainly do have a type.” She looks down at their joined hands. “I do love you, you know.”

“I do.”

“Losing you was so incredibly difficult. And after the war, there was so much to do. Even with everything I’d done, I kept having to prove myself, make them see _me_ , not the woman.” She frowns slightly. “I would have been a horrible mother at that point. I did the right thing.”

“I know you did.”

“I do have regrets.”

He nods and stands up, leaning over to kiss her cheek. “We all do.”

She looks up at him, and it feels like he can see the light fading, the haze of memory stealing over her. “I never regretted you.”

He kisses her again, letting his lips brush softly over hers. “I love you.”

“Oh, Steve.” She closes her eyes and Steve helps her lie back, resting on the pillow. He eases the lap desk away and sets it on the floor. He needs to leave, because he knows when she wakes up, she’ll see him and they’ll be back in the forties, and Steve doesn’t know that he has the strength to live through that again.Still, he stays there a little while longer, watching her sleep.

**

Steve opens the apartment door and leans against it. He drapes the dish towel in his hand over his shoulder and smiles. “Hey.”

“Hi. You gonna let me in?” Bucky lifts his hand and the four duffle bags he’s carrying with it. “I mean, I’m happy to show of my muscles, but I can think of better ways to do it.”

“I suppose.” Steve eases back so Bucky can walk inside, grabbing the bags that are in his other hand for him. Bucky looks around at the empty room. 

“I love what you’ve done with the place.” 

“I’ve unpacked the kitchen.”

“I told you not to touch the kitchen because you do it wrong.” Bucky bumps Steve with his shoulder. “The kitchen is my domain.”

“In that case, you’re making all of our meals.”

“You mostly eat at the Tower. I _do_ make all your meals.” He moves through the living room into the hallway. “Where am I putting these?”

“Depends on what they are. You’ve got seven duffle bags. Are all of them filled with gym socks, or what?”

“Clothes.” Bucky looks in one of the rooms and tosses his four bags in there. “Because the rest of society tends to frown on it when people wander out into the world without any on, and as much as I’d love to stay in the bedroom all the time, I really don’t think it’s practical.”

“You spoil all my fun.” Steve waits for Bucky to step out of the way and drops the rest of the bags into the room. “The furniture was supposed to be here already, but as you can see, that hasn’t happened. And I didn’t set up the kitchen. I unpacked the dishes and washed them.”

Bucky grabs Steve’s belt loops and pulls him in. “Hey.”

Steve takes a couple steps forward until he’s pressed against Bucky, until he’s pressed Bucky to the door jamb. “Well, hello there.”

“So.”

“Yep.” Steve shifts, using his knee to nudge Bucky’s thighs apart. “Tony told me there’s this thing people do here in the future.”

“There are a lot of ‘em.” Bucky spreads his legs a bit, letting Steve move in closer. “Order things off the internet, make memes, buy expensive coffee, shop fair trade.”

“Christen every room of a new house.” Steve grins brushes his lips over Bucky’s. “Of course, we did stuff like that back in the old days too. We just didn’t talk about it with everyone on social media.”

“Did you even have media way back then? What, like stone carvings? Hieroglyphics?” Steve’s grin turns into a husky laugh and he bites Bucky’s lower lip, hard and sharp. “Hey! No fair using super powers against me.”

“I don’t have super powered teeth.” Steve licks at Bucky’s lip, sucking the bitten part lightly. “So.” He keeps sucking until Bucky moans and Steve tilts his head, capturing Bucky’s mouth in a kiss. He’s not sure how long it goes on, but when they finally break apart, he feels drugged, and it takes a few moments for Bucky’s lashes to flutter up from his cheeks. Steve can barely see the irises behind the wide black of his pupils. “What are your thoughts?”

“I’ll let you know when my brain starts thinking again.” He presses closer, shifting on Steve’s thigh so Steve can feel the hard line of his cock. “Or we could --”

“James? Honey?”

Bucky’s eyes widen and he shoves Steve away. Steve takes a step back and Bucky nearly goes down to his knees without the support. “Uh. Just a sec. Mom. Just a second.”

“Your _mother_?” Steve hisses quietly.

“ _I didn’t invite her_.” Bucky undoes the button of his jeans, reaches in and rearranges himself and then puts himself back to rights. “Stay here.”

“There are some furniture movers here, James.”

“Be right out.” He jabs Steve in the chest then clears his throat. He walks toward the front door, tugging his shirt out of his jeans and over his hips as he goes. “Hey, Mom.”

Steve looks up at the ceiling and takes a deep breath. He turns on his heel and follows Bucky back down the hall. Bucky’s standing just outside the door with his mom, and one of the movers is waiting impatiently.

“Hey. You’ve got the furniture?”

“Yeah. You Rogers?”

“That’s me.”

“Sign here. We got a living room, dining room, bedroom, and guest room.”

Steve follows him out of the apartment and down the stairs. He’s careful not to look at Bucky or his mother. “Yeah. Let me help you guys.”

“Can’t. We’re bonded. Insurance won’t cover us if you start helping.”

“Joe.” One of the other movers is sitting on the tail of the truck. When the guy next to Steve looks up, she tilts her head back at Steve. “Pretty sure we’re not getting our asses sued by Captain America.” She jumps down off the truck and pulls her glove off, holding out a hand. “Gloria.”

“Steve.”

“Nice to meet you. You can give us a hand if you want, but I gotta tell you, I don’t put up with any macho bullshit.”

“Well, I won’t expect any from you then.” He smiles and she snorts.

“Yeah, yeah.” She grabs a spare pair of gloves and tosses them at Steve. “Get to work.” 

He starts helping, following Gloria up the stairs as she carries one end of the couch. It takes a few trips, because Tony went overboard, surprising no one at all except, maybe, Bucky’s mom who keeps looking at everything with wide eyes.

When all the furniture is unloaded and approximately in place, Steve hands waters out to all of the moving crew and tips each of them as well. He walks them to the door and Gloria grins up at him. “You know, you ever get tired of the super hero gig, I’m always hiring.”

“I’ll keep it in mind.”

“You do that.” She gives Steve a quickly salute and swings up into the front of the truck. Steve slaps the back door as she pulls away, watching until they’ve disappeared onto the main road before taking a deep breath and heading back inside.

“This is a nice kitchen.”

“Yeah. We wanted to make sure I had room to cook. Play around with recipes.”

“And this is…”

“Espresso machine.”

“That doesn’t look like any I’ve ever seen.”

“It’s a housewarming gift from Tony Stark.”

“For you or for him?”

“Mom.”

“I just don’t want the other employees thinking you’re getting special treatment because you’re…”

“Mrs. Barnes.” Steve ducks his head into the kitchen and gives her his best Captain America smile. 

She keeps talking like he hadn’t said anything. “Living with him.”

“You could at least say hi, Mom.”

She glances at Steve and nods and then turns back to Bucky.”You know your father won’t come here.”

“I know.” 

“So this. He’s more important than us?”

“That’s not fair.” Bucky sighs and guides his mom over to the newly delivered dining room set. “I’m not trying to keep you or Dad out of my life. No one’s expecting Dad to automatically be okay with it, but Steve didn’t do anything. What Dad was raised believing wasn’t Steve’s fault. And there’s no reason for us not to be together.”

“It’s just strange.”

“How is it any stranger than any other person I’ve been with? Everything I told you about was true. Everything I’ve told you that we did and that we do. All the normal things that couples do together. That’s what we do.”

“Except when he has to go off and save the world.”

“Or when I have to go off and make a gourmet dinner for the head of the business leaders of the world. It’s his job, Mom. Dad went to the docks. You went to the school. When I’m at work, I’m Chef Barnes, when it’s us, I’m Bucky. When he’s at work, he’s Captain America. When we’re together, he’s Steve. It’s not different.”

She glances over at Steve. He hasn’t moved from his spot near the kitchen doorway and, even though his arms are crossed over his chest, he keeps his stance relaxed. She looks at him for a long time, and then turns back to Bucky. “Being with him could get you hurt. Killed.”

“He doesn’t take me on missions with him, Mom.”

“People know you’re Captain America’s boyfriend. You’re a target to any crazy person who wants to get at him. _You’re_ not a superhero.”

“Mrs. Barnes.” Steve straightens and clears his throat. “You’re right. Being with me might put Bucky in danger. I can’t guarantee his safety other than to say that, if he’s with me, I will do everything I can to protect him. I love your son, and I want you to be part of his life, because he loves you all so much. And I won’t make him choose between your family and me.” He swallows and looks at Bucky for a long moment. “Will you?”

“I’m not saying he can’t be with you,” Mrs. Barnes says quickly. “We’re not cutting him out of our lives.” She turns back to Bucky. “Show me around the rest of the place.”

Steve and Bucky sigh in unison. Bucky gets to his feet and leads his mom around the apartment, telling her all the things they plan to do with the space. Steve digs a beer out of the refrigerator and opens it, downing a few swallows and blowing out a breath. 

He grabs his tablet off the counter and sits at the kitchen table, looking over some intel that Clint had dug up. Bucky and his mom fall back into normal conversation that Steve does his best to ignore. After another fifteen minutes, Bucky walks her to the door and gives her a hug. “Thanks for coming by, Mom.”

“Call if you need anything.”

“I will. I never have the entire time I’ve been living on my own, but I promise I will.” He smiles and kisses her cheek. “Drive carefully, okay?”

“Goodnight, sweetheart.” She hugs him tight and then takes a step back. “Captain.”

“Steve, ma’am.”

“Steve. Yes. Goodnight.”

Bucky walks out, not coming back in until Steve hears a car start. He closes the door and leans on it then bangs his head against it a couple of times. Steve gets up and walks over to him, putting his hands lightly on Bucky’s hips. He tips his head forward and rests his forehead against the top of Bucky’s spine. 

“Your parents hate me.”

“They don’t hate you.”

“Really?”

“Okay, well, my mom doesn’t hate you. She doesn’t _like_ you, but she doesn’t hate you. And my dad doesn’t hate _you_.”

“Are there any more hairs you want to split?”

Bucky sighs. He rests his hands on Steve’s and tilts his head so that Steve’s head moves to his shoulder, and Bucky can lean back against him. “I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault. She has legitimate concerns.” He moves his hands from Bucky’s waist, sliding them down to rest against his stomach. “You don’t think they’ll come around, do you?”

It’s not really a question, or if it is, it’s one they both know the answer to already. “They’re probably not ever going to be happy about it.”

“Are you okay with that?”

Bucky turns so he’s facing Steve, wrapping his hands around his neck. “They’re not happy about it, but they’ll live with it. They’re my family and they love me and, because of that, they want me to be happy, and I am. This. You. Us. This makes me happy.”

“Me too.” Steve kisses him slowly, pulling away after a few moments. “Me too.”

“Good.” Bucky presses a quick kiss to Steve’s lips. “So, should we unpack or just skip straight to the christening?” 

Steve laughs and grabs Bucky by the waist, hefting him up and carrying him over to their new dining room table. “You really have to ask?”


End file.
